I Remember a Field of Flowers
by MintSong
Summary: Fumu wondered just how many events where set off during the night of the Fall Festival, or maybe they were stewing long before it. Anyway you take it, they now needed to keep Kirby from getting himself hurt again, get Bun to believe them that teething isn't puberty without opening that can, and deal with whatever lurked in the dense forest. Also Dedede, but he was a given.
1. Prologue

Fof ch 1

A/N: KRBaY/KotS cartoon ffic. The first few chapters were written a million years ago and has gathered layers of dust and sediment that I had to chisel off because they had solidified to stone. This has become an exercise to learn to just write again, touch up, and release. To write and develop instead of just stew. To get over that I'm never satisfied with the art.

Feels slice of life but my world building always tend to burn worse than a slow burn. Also, the first version I saw of the cartoon was Kirby of the Stars so the names are Fumu, etc. It's just a preference so it shouldn't be an issue.

Also, also, I created a digital comic page for the first part of the prologue back when I thought of this those million years ago. "As I Count Your Stars" on DeviantArt. It made me laugh to remember that I used the grass brush to make the stars and comet trail. Looking at that account is like digging around in a time capsule. The hands haunt me~ :P

:D :D Don't repost story (and art) or I shall find you and fill your bathtub with spray cheese, cause all your sinks to drip loudly, and fill your air conditioner with glitter and automatic fart-in-a-can. :D :D

… … (っ- ‸ – ς) … …

No beta.

* * *

PROLOGUE:

Fumu paused in her thoughts while still half-hunched over the eyepiece. Her face turned up, following the heads of the Moonglories that grew in this field to the swathe of twinkling stars stretching from horizon to horizon above her. She glanced at the sliver of moon dipping to the horizon. Feeling small didn't describe the feeling. She felt small, but it excited her. _This truly was a wonderful way to relax from the last stressful weeks of planning for tomorrow night_, she thought. (Bun, though, would beg to differ.)

The sound of gentle breathing came from nearby. Seen only by near silhouettes, their details barely visible and the color of their forms paled in the dim light, Bun and Kirby were snuggled on a thick blanket that separated them from the damp grasses and soil. Kirby in particular had greatly enjoyed the stars early on but had soon fallen asleep, unable to stay up much later. Fumu smiled softly before leaning down to the short stump next to the telescope. Gingerly, as quietly as possible, the hood of the red-tinted lantern was lifted, and she quickly dotted down her notes in her journal before she could forget them.

* * *

The flowers' scent was heavy in the damp night air, the scent accumulating around him, clinging to him as his walking stirred it up. In the distance he could see the children's forms surrounded by this sea of pale pink and blue dotted in nesting shadows gently pulsing with the wind. The flowers' colors were paled by the dimmed light of a setting quarter moon. A calm night – mostly.

Long before Meta Knight had reached the children, the standing form had noticed his presence, increasingly looking over to him as he neared. He peered closer, his eyes faintly glowing, and saw Fumu turned towards him, her face concerned. Maybe she hadn't had realized it was him yet, but by the time he could clearly see Fumu's face without having to focus – her form heavily shadowed in the thin light, standing next to a rather large telescope – he could see she recognized his figure.

"Hello Sir Meta Knight," she said, her voice low.

Meta Knight gave the sleeping boys jumbled together some room as he slipped through the grasses.

"Is something wrong?" she watched his strange eyes fall back on her from her little brother and Kirby.

"Have any of you been rummaging in my personal things?" he asked frankly.

Fumu blinked, running over his words again. "No," she kept the volume low but the sound sharp. She was taken back but as Meta Knight's eyes bored into her, but she fanned her courage and glared back.

"… Have you noticed anyone who looked to be at the wrong place near my room?" he finally conceded.

She learned back a bit on her heels and thought, earnestly thought. Her thoughtful features drooped as she gave a sigh. "I don't think so. Wait!" She was louder than intended but it managed to stop Meta Knight as he turned to leave. "Do you need help with . . . anything?"

He didn't turn back to her fully. "Likely not," he said before he drifted beyond the boundary of the weak light of her lantern.

She frowned. "Hmph!"


	2. Fireworks and Children Games

a/n: Other kids beside Fumu and Bun exist.

Fireworks lit up the sky. Their dazzling, fiery tails streaked across the once clear, starry night and curved towards the hills below. The village was proudly lit. Every street was warmly decorated with colorful lanterns and strands of lights that enchanted young and old alike with their displays. The attention of most was on the main square where a communal banquet was being set up. It would soon be time to eat.

By now the festival was in full swing and the excitement was growing. The people of Pupupuland, those not already preoccupied, were dancing and carrying on. Presents of pastries and candies were given. Little pranks pulled. Many strutted about in lavish costumes and were parading around for all to see. Today was the fall festival, a festival carried to the region by immigrants many generations ago, and they heartily celebrated life. Though, some were not as spirited.

Meta Knight stood sullen, observing the villagers having fun. He was thankful with the relative peace of the night but past experiences had made him weary of too much noise and flashy distractions – too easy to be ambushed. Looking towards the moon, he watched the pale wisps of smoke from the fireworks lazily drifting pass, lightly obscuring the moon's form for a few moments now and again. Whenever he blinked, he feared to see the moon dyed a deep red from suffocating dust and chemicals.

He sighed as he looked away. Old memories could be fickle and troublesome. They flared his instincts to an uncomfortable level. That itch to set his bearing. Innate whispers of _steady yourself, observe all, weapon ready._ He knew it was unlikely he needed to worry about such things, the times currently rather peaceful, but trouble – caused by Nightmare or not – could always pop up. (_Observe all, keep moving, keep focused.)_

He took a deep breath and unfurled the edges of that itch's clawing hold on him but remained focused. He had lost too many to a mixture of ill fate and poor judgement from inexperience. He was not going to be idle and allow that number to rise without trying to stop it first.

Holding his sigh this time he looked towards the corner, seeing the sets of eyes spying on him from within a flowering bush. "Children," his stern voice a touch soft reached them, setting off a soft, inconsistent murmur of hushed whispers. The brushes that hugged the corner of the building trembled. The soft whispering was broken when Kirby suddenly poked through the dense brush, his face framed by the flowery growth. The child stared a while before stumbling out and, gaining his bearings again, skipped the rest of the way towards him. "Kirby, what are you and your friends up to?" Meta Knight asked with a small smile hidden behind his mask.

Kirby's gaze avoided Meta Knight. "I – ah," he started but stopped. Instead, a little pink arm reached back and pulled out a couple of colorfully wrapped skewers tied with ribbon. "Huun-gry?" he smiled hopefully. Meta Knight's masked face could show no emotion beyond his eyes, but kirby's faint curve of a smile grew enormous as Meta Knight placed a gentle hand on his head.

"Very well, I'll have some," he paused, an idea popping up, "but only if you do a favor for me."

"What," a voice still within the brushes asked. The faces of several other children had already revealed themselves.

"Can you four go find and check up on Blade and Sword? I want to make sure they have not become idle in their rounds with all the excitement." Meta Knight was thankful that his mask hid his own mischievous grin.

"Okay," a child beamed, "where are they?"

"I ordered them to patrol the village. You will have to find them. How efficiently can you four work together in this havoc to find and properly convey to each other the whereabouts of two missing allies? Without getting distracted."

"Like a game! Like hide-and-seek," one of the other children, the smallest of them exclaimed.

"Yes, like a game." He was enjoying this too much.

* * *

Beaming, Kirby quickly jumped across the roofs to where he and the others had last seen Meta Knight. He stopped, absentmindedly scratching his back again, and peered over the edge of the building's roof to watch the dressed-up figures dancing with the lights and shadows. The lights and music, even the blowing wind quickened his heart and picked at the seams of his control, but he had promised - more or less - to Meta Knight that they would report back on Sword and Blade. For now, he stole a deep breath from the aroma-laden air, imagining what he would eat first then next and after that, and drooled, almost losing his train of thought again.

He jumped, twirled, and landed on the roof's edge. Teetering, he leaned forward, the heels of his feet lifting from the ledge as he peered into one of the alleyways that the dancing lights couldn't touch. A particular shape looked promising. "Ump!" Kirby pitched forward, one foot slipping from the ledge then the other. The shadows and everything they hid – trashcans, maybe junk but at least the ground – raced up towards him. He quickly gulped in air. His descent slowed and he now drifted into the bushes below. Stiff branches bit at his skin. He angrily sighed and gasped again to lift himself from the annoying branches but only managed to strengthen the hold the branches had on him as they now cradled his inflated body snugly. Forced to sigh again, Kirby sat for a moment silently fuming. His hand drifted to his mouth. He chewed it, finding the action soothing as of late.

"Need help?"

Kirby struggled to see the top of the speaker's head from his position. He whined, a soft "poyo" escaping him.

"Heh, it's alright. Hey guys! He wandered over here!"

Another dim bloom of light joined another and moved somewhere below Kirby. He heard shuffling before a set of small hands plunged through dense vegetation and grabbed at the branches in front of him. Pon's head, a young girl with pigtails, popped up from beyond his view and, slowly pulling herself towards him on her belly, herself starting to sink into the bush.

"Kirby~," she struggled to reach his extended hand, "You've fought big monsters before. You could get out of this if you try really hard."

"I . . . poyo!" Kirby noticed Meta Knight in the distance behind them.

"Sir Meta Knight," the young boy not supporting Pon gave a convincing salute. "Blade's by the starting line for the parade helping Bun into his costume and Sword's by the kitchen keeping watch because of reports that … that weird man was sticking his hands in the dip," his expression grew confused and disgusted, "for some reason."

"Very good. Good time, too. Your job for me is done tonight. Go enjoy the festival after you've helped Kirby down." He glanced at the stricken child. "She's right, you know."

Kirby pouted. "Come play," he chirped. He struggled a bit to sit up but realized that was silly and reached to Pon again. Pon offered her hand, and grabbing it, she pulled hard and all three tumbled to the ground. Jumping out of the jumble of limbs, Kirby skipped to the Knight. "Play!"

"I can't Kirby. I have a job to do."

"My mom said it's a good thing to have a little fun once in a while," Pon added shyly.

Meta Knight hummed a bit, rolling his words on his tongue, selecting them. "I've had my fun for tonight. Besides, someone has to keep the peace with the Sheriff ten miles high in the sky." The children followed his gaze down to the mouth of an archway that cradled the scene of the banquet and the hungry dinners. The Sheriff sat slumped in a chair to the side of this picture, his redden face pleased. The older boy chuckled as the Sheriff patted his full stomach.

Pausing after a swift turn, Meta Knight glanced back once more. "Go have fun."


	3. Hammers, Ladles, & Five Cough Drops

Kirby Fof ch 3

A/N: So looking back, I realized I had forgotten the name of the other kids and made up names and relationships back when. I'm going with the option that these are other, other kids. Clarification: there are at least two others: Pon and her brother. Both girls have pigtails because pigtails are adorable.

A/N: So I'm worrying that people will not like the direction I'm taking the story. Scared of them going, "Oh hum, a common idea. How dull," but this is me trying to break through my hesitations and just write again so (ﾉ´ヮ´)ﾉ*:･ﾟ✧ We're taking a plot-important detour _for several chapters_! (But then again, all detours once taken become the story.)

A/N: I love sparkles and dramatic prose. ✧ ﾟ･: * (((o(*ﾟ▽ﾟ*)o))) *:･ﾟ✧

* * *

Storytime:

_Bang! Bang!_

_. . . BANG!_

"Urrrg . . . ?"

_CRASH!_

Fumu bolted upright as the frame of her bed and the walls of her bedroom quaked all around her. Unwrapping her blankets from around her legs the fastest she could, she stumbled out of her bed with a thinner sheet still around one leg. Her momentum carried her and she fell face first into a wall. She caught herself, pausing braced against the wall as she kicked off the sheet and pushed off towards her bedroom door, and sprinted hard down the hall towards the commotion.

_It's near the throne room_, Fumu realized as she followed the banging. She paused for only a moment to watch a handful of Waddle Dees run in the opposite direction. A heavy frown etched into her features. _That King Dedede must have ordered another demon beast,_ she figured. _Where's Kirby? We'll need him!_ She stomped the rest of the short way to the throne room.

"Sire!"

Fumu peeked from behind the heavy wooden throne room doors. She had heard Sir Meta Knight's voice, right? She couldn't find him in the wrecked room. King Dedede _was_ present, hunched over, hammer in hand and breathing heavily. The small cappy ducked down further as the King wobbly searched around for something with a wild look in his eyes.

"C-come o-o-on~ I just want a-" the King slurred as he stumbled over a fallen beam. He glared at the prone piece of what had likely been part of the roof and gave it a careless kick.

Dread filled Fumu. "Oh for the love of - he's drunk!" she muttered. Fumu flinched as that heavy hammer contacted with a support pillar. "Please tell me he hasn't been drunk _all_ night!"

As the dust settled, Meta Knight's form emerged from the hanging clouds of debris. Meta Knight leaned down from his perch on a previously fallen pillar behind King Dedede. "Sire, you are being unreasonable." Just a twinge of impatient leaked through his words.

King Dedede narrowed in on the voice and swung wildly. "DON'T DISOBEY YOUR KING!"

Fumu hoped this wouldn't be the one time Meta Knight failed to dodge.

_BANG!_

* * *

His feet dug further into the damp ground between the large, old roots as he tried to flatten his back against the tree's bark. Mimicking the big fuzzy thing Fumu had shown him in the book, he moved back and forth against the rough surface.

A sharp creak sounded before something gave way underneath Kirby's feet and he tumbled forward. He turned back to find an angry face etched into the bark. It glared down from high above with confusion mixed into its expression.

"Child," the tree said sternly, rising an eyebrow, "… Don't do that."

Kirby straightened to get a better view of its face. To his side, a root sprouted from the ground and pointed off into the distance. "Go to the village. They may have something for you."

Now joyful with anticipation, Kirby bounced from the hill to the more level meadow below. He waved back to the tree as he trotted off towards the treeline.

* * *

Warming smells drifted from the modest building.

Kirby followed his nose just for the moment, ignoring the annoying constant itch on his back and twinges of pain, and pushed his way through the ornamental bamboo to the building's backdoor. He creaked it opened and peered into a kitchen. The door shut but Kirby lingered by it. His little fist found its way into his mouth again as he eyed the bubbling pot on the stove, but groan escaped him as he finally just sat down where he had stood.

Kirby's eyes shot open as a door clicked. A big smile splattered on to his face as Chef Kawasaki came in through the door from the dining area.

"Oh! Kirby!" Chef Kawasaki exclaimed as suddenly Kirby darted from his backdoor and was now under foot. "Better not be taste testing without my knowledge," he taunted playfully.

Kirby shook his head with that same large smile.

Chef Kawasaki returned the smile. "Got something here I'm cooking up," he motioned to a big pot bubbling on his large stove. The cook leaned in and chuckled as Kirby tried to do the same. "Want to try a sample?" he said and smiled when Kirby nodded with vigor.

"Alright then!" Chef Kawasaki quickly straightened, snatching a ladle from its resting place on a small dish. "Kirby, why don't you go get a couple bowls and we'll try this out?!"

"Poyo!"

Kawasaki glanced behind to the room just as Kirby was nearing the clean dinnerware and backtracked. "EH!" He dropped the long wooden spoon into the pot which was luckily just long enough to not get lost within the simmering curried stew. "Wait. Wait!" Kirby turned back to him and stared at him, a stubby pink arm reaching back to scratch an enflamed patch stretching across the child's back. He trotted up to the boy. "Kirby. You can't be in here with a rash."

Kirby stared at the man.

"Did you get in some poison ivy?" Kirby continued to stare at him with a confused look. "Here," he moved to the boxes he used for take-out. "I can still give you some, but you really can't be here until that heals up. Just in case." Kawasaki quickly dished up a large helping. "Go to Dr. Yabui's. He'll give you something." Kawasaki watched as Kirby continued to scratch. "And don't scratch it! You'll just make it worst." He stared at the spreading redness. Was it poison ivy? He has never seen poison ivy like this but... "How long have you been scratching it?" Going for the door, he held it open for Kirby. "You can get really sick from scratching stuff like that." Kirby now stood on the backstep pouting at him. Kawasaki bit his lip but then added a smile to his good-bye. "Go on. He can make it stop itching. Don't you want that?"

Kirby gave a small smile accompanied with a nod.

"Good. Now straight to Dr. Yabui with you." Kawasaki's smile faltered as he tried to close the door without caving in to that tiny sad face.

* * *

"Say 'ah.'"

"Ahhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh. . ."

Dr. Yabui leaned over to peer down at the cappy's tonsils. "Hmm~ a bit swollen. There's irritation everywhere." He leaned back and stretched his back. "It's likely a cold."

"I could have told you that," the cappy's wife said to the side.

"Hmm." Dr. Yabui hobbled over to the cabinet. "I can give you some fever reducer and something to clean out the mucus. Get plenty of rest and fluids and you'll be up in no time."

Medicine in hand, the couple paused within the clinic's entryway. They bowed, thanking the older cappy.

The woman gently rubbed her husband's back as she helped him shuffled to the low gate at the end of the clinic's yard and eventually home. She sighed heavily. He never should have been made to leave his bed. "Let's get you home and settle you down with some warm soup."

The man nodded wobbly.

Just down a couple steps the couple was greeted by the low gate seemingly opening for them.

"Oh, good afternoon, Kirby." The woman smiled warmly down at the pink puffball. Kirby returned the smile with a tired one. The woman's smile fell a little. "Oh, I hope you feel better soon."

Taking one white stone step after the next Kirby reached the front wooden steps of Dr. Yabui's that were wearing out faster than a solid paint job could last. He didn't pay attention to the woman staring a moment longer at his back or her muttering about kings with a glare that could burn empires as she turned back towards the road.

Dr. Yabui leaned over gingerly, supporting his aging back, to get a better look at the approaching form. "Hello, Kirby. And what may I do for you this fine morning?"

Kirby gave a soft whine.


	4. Rosemary & Feverfew

Dancing Kirbies!

〈( ^.^)ノ ヽ(⌐■_■)ノ (ﾉ´∀｀)ﾉ

* * *

Meta Knight sighed and rolled his sore shoulder several more times to ease the twinge pricking his muscles as he continued down the simple dirt road that rounded the main village. On that last landing he had landed off tilt just enough to pinch something within.

It was much quieter on this back road than the mains. There were no tanks driving fast down the lane but instead light foot traffic with the occasional hut that seemed to grow out of the surrounding dense brush. He liked going this way. Every so often he could glimpse into the villagers' lives with the next hut, and the way the road was carved into the forest directed the wind like a breezeway. It made him wish for the days when he could fly more freely.

His frowned hardened. He really hoped that the King's ridiculousness this morning was a mere whim aggravated by too much alcohol.

. . . But they were being investigated, weren't they? Things in the knights' quarters just slightly out of place. The waddle dee guards-

"Oh, Sir Meta Knight!"

Meta Knight paused and found the woman who lived in this particular hut peeping over her high fence blooming with the last flowers of autumn before the leaves changed to warmer shades. "Good afternoon, Mrs. Ren. How has your mother been?"

The woman hurriedly waved at him to come closer. "She's fine. A bit achy with the coming rain." The waving hand dipped down behind the fence.

Even with the vines Meta Knight could tell it was motioning for him to come faster. "What has happened?" he asked quietly, now peeping through the wood planks. He could see Mrs. Ren's form shifting behind them before her face finally settled in the wide gap.

"Aika saw Kirby at Dr. Yabui's about," she glanced up at the sun before her face dipped back down, "maybe twenty minutes ago. She said there was either a wound or a severe rash on his back."

Meta Knight perked up.

A hand settled over Mrs. Ren's frown. "Poor thing. You best checked up on him and find out what happened before . . . is the King still out cold?"

Meta Knight smirked under his mask. _She's been gossiping with the guards again._ "The King is finally sleeping off his night of drinking. He should not be causing Kirby any trouble for at least the rest of the day if not for several."

"Hmm," she agreed with a concerned smile.

"Do you have any more information?"

"The day's been quiet otherwise," was said with a frown.

"Alright," Meta Knight loosened his grip on his cape, letting it free with the wind. "Thank you."

Mrs. Ren couldn't follow his form as with the speed he disappeared into the brush edging the lane.

* * *

[Line break is glitching. This is backup.]

The purple ball bounced higher than intended. It ricocheted off the angled roof and soared over the vegetable garden, over the fence towards the stream. A familiar set of pigtails popped up over the fence as she struggled to scale it. Reaching the top, the young cappy straddled it and sat scanning for a flash of purple.

No purple, but there was pink!

Pon jumped down and sprinted to the pink ball floating down the river. "Kirby!" she called out.

Warily, Kirby opened his eyes to large lazy clouds against stark blue. His brows furrowed as he again heard the muffled sounds.

"Come on! Wake up, Kirby!" She ran down the stream's length with the current. He had opened his eyes but he was still quickly floating away faster than she could run.

"Poyo?" his head slowly turned as he finally caught sight of her.

"Swim to the side!" She lost ground as she rounded a large tree. "You can do it!" He disappeared from her view as a large boulder blocked her path. It was too wide to just run around it like the tree. By the time she was sliding down the other side, one of her knees skinned from slipping on the way up, Kirby was thrashing in the water. "Swim to the side!" she flailed her arms. Someone in the distant was yelling for her.

"Hmm," Kirby whined at everything. He was sore and tired and itchy and hungry. He flipped back onto his front with a final exasperated pout. The moment his mouth broke above the threshold again, he sucked in as much air as possible and _blooped! _up to hover above the water's surface. Kirby floated idly for the moment, still pouting at everything.

"Kirby!"

Little arms wiggled as he turned to the small figure on the bank. The pout fell immediately, and he waved over at Pon with a beaming smile, having forgotten for the moment his troubles and the annoying bandage stretched too tightly on his back.

"Get over here, silly! It's dangerous to blindly follow a current!"

* * *

"Do you think he's sick or something?" Pon's older brother asked as he leaned down over the snoozing pink ball they had wrapped in several large towels. He eyed the flushness that had been spreading over Kirby's face since Pon had pulled him out of the water.

Pon rubbed Kirby's head. "You poor thing," she paused, "He doesn't seem to have a bad temperature."

"Maybe," Pon's brother, Yuki, straightened up, "but he isn't a cappy. He's a . . . puffball!" He nodded to his idea. That sounded like a good name. "It could be bad for his kind."

"Ehhh~ we should go get Mommy. Maybe under that bandage is a bad boo-boo." She frowned. "It's all wet, too. That can't be good."

"I'll do it. Wait here with him."

"K."

* * *

[Line break is glitching. This is backup.]

Fear had struck her hard when she caught sight of her boy running down between the fields towards her and her sister. She had dropped her basket, fearing the worst.

Now she was leaning down over little Kirby, her hand over her mouth. "Oh dear . . ." She couldn't have Kirby staying here in their house. Hopefully the rumor that the King was in a stupor was true. She _just couldn't_ have that man exploding into her house and threatening the children. Her train of thought stalled as the little pink form nestled in her towels softly shivered. His face was flushed – she placed a hand on his head – but the children were right: he didn't have much of a temperature.

. . _. He is a child as well_ . . .

"Yuki. Go get the feverfew."

"Got it," he said as he jumped to his feet.

She frowned as she eyed the peeling bandage. "We'll need to change this."

* * *

The soup disappeared in a single slurp, causing their mother to sigh again as she took the bowl. "Here. Let me take that. You might as well drink another round." She paused at the child's large smile.

"Th . . . than yuu." Kirby's smile grew bigger.

She couldn't help but smile back warmly. Not even her worry about pugnacious kings could will it away as she drifted back to the stove.

"How do you get in the river?" Yuki asked.

Kirby didn't answer, but he did pick up the unused spoon on the table. He looked it over for a moment before popping it into his mouth.

"Don't eat the silverware, Kirby. It's not good for you," Pon warned.

The spoon's handle reappeared but the rest of it didn't leave Kirby's mouth as Kirby continued chewing.

"Mom," Yuki turned back to her, "Kirby's eating the silverware."

Their mom reached over and slipped Kirby's hand from the handle and tugged gently. It didn't budge. "Now, now little one." She tugged again. Kirby pushed both the handle and her hand to the side and focused chewing on one spot.

"Oh . . ."

"What is it?" Pon asked her mother. She and her brother watched as their mother somehow managed to get Kirby to open his mouth and peeked inside.

Yuki leaned in. "See if you can see the bottom of his mouth! Is there really nothing?"

"He's teething." She was surprised she hadn't noticed it sooner.

Both of her children stared at her. "Huh?" Pon asked.

* * *

The door slammed so hard against the stone-cobbled wall that Fumu flinched, worried she had just damaged it, but it still stood on its hinges so, damaged or not, she stepped in. "Sir Meta Knight! Sword! Blade!" She listened. "Anyone?"

They weren't in their quarters.

She dashed out, closing the door behind her. Rumor had it something was wrong with Kirby. She couldn't find Kirby, whether sick as rumor has it or not, she hadn't seen Kirby all day so she was going to follow her gut that something must be wrong.


	5. Shelter and Dust

❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀(ﾉ´ヮ´)ﾉ*:･ﾟ✧ ❀✧ ﾟ･: * (((o(*ﾟ▽ﾟ*)o))) *:･ﾟ✧(ﾉ´ヮ´)ﾉ*:･ﾟ✧ ❀✧ ﾟ･: * (((o(*ﾟ▽ﾟ*)o))) *:･ﾟ✧❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀

The sun burned closer to the planet-bound edge of the western sky. It would be hours before twilight arrived but Kabu was already sleeping.

Blade instinctually looked up nervously as Kabu settled on his foundation. He looked back down, the shiver in the structure calming, at Kirby sleepily leaning against his leg. Kirby still had that teething ring from Mrs. Amamiya. Somehow, despite Kirby's sleepiness, it managed to stay in his mouth. The young one yawned for the moment before going back to slowly chewing as he drifted near sleep. Well, Blade mused, he was a toddler . . . that could take down high-level opponents.

There was rustling somewhere above them in Kabu's upper levels, and Blade flexed the fingers of the hand that had never left his sword.

The secret door to Kabu's lower levels flung open, Sir Meta Knight and Sword dropping down not a moment later.

"Let me see, Kirby," Sir Meta Knight eased the boy forward. Gingerly the large, now soiled bandaged was peeled from the child's back leaving bare an angry red mark across the skin on his back.

Blade leaned in. "Geez, Kirby. What did you get in?"

". . . It'll need to be cleaned again and a salve applied."

Sword trotted to the rows of emergency chests stored in these lower levels. "On it!"

"Blade."

Said knight straightened. "Sir?"

"Go find Fumu and Bun and bring them here. They're probably worried for Kirby."

"Yes sir!"

Sir Meta Knight rounded to Kirby's front as the other knight's footsteps receded. Despite the look of his back, Kirby should have more energy than this. He hooked a finger around the ring. Kirby stalled and stared at the knight. With a small pull the ring came out with a pop.

"Sir?" Sword stood next to them with one of the medkits.

Using the ring, he held Kirby's mouth open. A top set of little pointed canines peeped out from Kirby's gums. "We'll need to make sure he doesn't scratch it anymore."

"Right."

* * *

Below Kabu, below the heavy metal hatch door was a steel ladder that dropped into a barely lit hallway. When one walked to its end, they would find another heavy hatch. Inside, off to the side, Bun stepped back to admire the work. Some foldable chairs, some strange protrusion from the wall, and nearly a whole crate of grey-green blankets had been transformed into a pillow fort – sans pillows. They had added three low cots under its canopy, one of which Kirby was now nestled in along with at least five more blankets. Bun slipped in and flopped onto his cot.

Opposite from him on Kirby's other side sat his sister on her own cot. Again, she was lost in her thoughts somewhere, her features pensive as she rested her cheek in her palm like she always did. While he was again distracted admiring the work, he remembered what Yuki had said and scooted his cot closer to Kirby's. "Hey Kirby! Can you open up for a moment," Bun leaned over as Kirby stretched his mouth wide. "Wow," Bun gaped, "there _is_ no bottom! I'll need to tell the others."

"Will you stop that." Fumu, breaking from her trance with renewed frustration, retook her spot in front of Kirby.

"What do you think is in there? The nothing," he added to clarify.

She grunted, unsure how to answer. "Tilt back so I can see," she said to Kirby who continued to obey. "Incisors and cuspids . . . no molars yet." Fumu leaned back, allowing Kirby to finally close his mouth. She looked him straight in the eyes. "You will need to start brushing now, understand? You need to take good care of your teeth. It's essential to one's health, and these could be the only set you get."

"Poyo!" Kirby beamed up at her but quickly sunk back to rest against the blankets.

Fumu hung her head in exasperation. These next months, maybe year, were going to be difficult. Kirby still had trouble comprehending more complex demands and getting him to actually brush his teeth was going to be frustrating. Adding to her concerns, Fumu's hand slipped from her lap to Kirby's still mildly too warm body. She turned back to where Sword was taking a broom around the stacks of boxes in an effort to clean the little makeshift living area they had set up. This place. A place below the temple that was already below Kabu. Just from the echo she knew that the mostly shadowed area was huge. Around them was tall shelves of storage crates. Where had they procured all this stuff? What _was_ all this stuff?

"I'm worried how Kirby's still so tired," she called over to Sword, "If he got into something, we need to find it. A plant, maybe, is causing this fatigue, or maybe King Dedede spilled some chemical, or… I wouldn't leave it pass King Dedede to spread something if he got the idea it would benefit him."

A misaligned box shifted back into place and Sword grabbed for the broom again. "I'm not the best person to ask when it comes to Kirby's kind."

"We can't just ignore this fatigue! It may be an indicator of something bad. Maybe an infection!"

"Sir Meta Knight doesn't seem too concern. He does seem to be hovering, but not worried."

"Yeah, well, would Sir Meta Knight even tell us if something was wrong," Bun asked plainly. That caused Sword to take the moment to think.

"…" Sword's pause broke as he leaned down and reached the broom under nearest set of metal shelves. "You two have shown your knack for trouble and responding to it. I'm sure you'll be folded in once Sir Meta Knight returns."

"Really? Would we really? You haven't told us about all this!" Fumu gestured to their corner and beyond. "What is this?!"

"A bomb shelter."

"A bomb shelter?" Fumu arms fell to her sides just as Bun's head lifted higher, "Is someone threatening to bomb us?" her voice had grown thinner.

"No," Sword said. He paused to position the dustpan as he needed, "it's just in case."

"… This is a big just-in-case," Bun added.

"Hm. We have a fair amount of people to shelter. If there was an incident, we don't know how long we'll be stuck sheltering." [Sword answered too calmly for both children's tastes.] Wondering why no retort had come, Sword studied both of the little ones' faces as he turned to dump the dustpan and still saw skepticism.

There was a sort of fleeing of strength from Sword's body as he gingerly placed the dustpan on top of the now closed trash can; he placed it as if the thin yet sturdy metal would crumble to dust under his touch.

Both siblings fought the need to shiver as Sword looks up with a half-concealed seething look.

"What if I told you that weapons existed that could flatten this entire countryside with a single strike. A strike kin to an asteroid falling from the heavens." Sword took a knee in front of the children's cots to reach their sitting eye-level. "You don't have them here but out there, in the other systems, they exist. Things like that is what this place is for. It's a backup. A plan 'Z'. When you're responsible for others you have to shoulder the burden of thinking of what boogiemen will come riding in to r-wreak havoc."

Fumu wetted her lips nervously. "I understand." She glanced at Bun. "We understand."

"Yeah." Sword sighed as he straightened and went back to sweeping. "Unfortunately," he sighed heavily, "you may just do. … Don't worry too much. Sir Meta Knight said the best thing was for Kirby to rest. I'm sure we can count of you two helping in keeping him in bed?"

"Y-yup," Bun replied this time, though still unsettled by his own imagination.

"Good." Sword may have smiled under his helmet from the tone of his voice. "Hopefully he won't be too much of a handful."

"Heh," Fumu forced herself to smile, "yeah."


	6. Pale Blue Smoke

ヾ(´▽｀)ゝ [insert worried notion about stagnation, and creating without an audience] ヽ(´∀｀ヽ)

┐(￣ー￣)┌

The Palest Blue Smoke

Nearly two days had past and King Dedede was still celebrating. Kirby was off on some 'mission' (the excuse they had given to King Dedede) and the King would let everyone in the village know that he had 'chased him off' on the hour whether it was noon or hours before dawn. It frustrated the village folk, scared the birds, and made the sheep even more skittish. By now some had learned to ignore the nigh constant bullhorns from the castle. Others went about their lives with wool literally stuffed into their ears, and finding it too tedious to take out the wool and stuff it back whenever an impromptu announcement came over those speakers, took to relying on pencil and paper to communicate with others. Even the King himself had shoved plugs in his ears and set recordings on a timer to ease his so terrible burdens of having to both give and listen to his own announcements.

Fumu was finally far enough from the Castle to actually hear birds among the trees again. Reaching Kabu, she hurried down the series of ladders until she reached the now familiar heavy latch door. She jumped onto the nearby chain suspended from a pulley attached to a series of gears in the ceiling of the hidden chamber, and quickly slipped down as the door creaked open and slowly began to close again.

"Sir Meta Knight!" Fumu skidded to a stop near the expanding living area where she found him crouched near Kirby's nest. "Blade said something had changed!"

"Easy, Fumu," he said. He took a handful of unwrapped energy bars from a bowl and tossed them into Kirby's waiting mouth.

Kirby, his eyes still heavy with sleep, settled back onto his belly with a soft sigh. His hand reached for and found the freshly chilled teether and popped it back in. A built tension never fully left his small body as he tried to relax.

"Kirby is fine. We should wait for Blade and your brother to arrive," Sir Meta Knight said.

"I…" Fumu dropped down next to the two and gingerly rubbed Kirby's head. She frowned as there was still extra heat radiating from his skin, and then at the collecting saliva wetting the bedding. "Here, Kirby," she said as she gingerly pushed a fresh towel under Kirby's front. "… Cappy babies don't usually have this much trouble with teething."

"… … Biology is strange and troublesome."

"Yeah." Kirby cooed as Fumu continued to rub his head.

* * *

The four of them – Blade, Sword, Fumu, and Bun – had taken seats around the living area and watched as Sir Meta Knight stood near the no-pillows pillow fort under which Kirby's bed was set up.

"Children," Sir Meta Knight finally began, "I will make this succinct given the fluid timeline for when we may need to take action. Kirby's body is transitioning into the next stage of his development. The teething and fatigue are related to this."

"Kirby's going through puberty!" Bun exclaimed.

"… … No." There was a chuckle from Sword. "The teething will continue for some time, but the vesicles have begun to swell, indicating that this isn't a false alarm, and Kirby may need help as the… wings first form."

"WINGS!?" both siblings cried.

"As-"

"What do you mean, wings?!" they shouted in unison as they crowded close.

"… As the strain worsen, so could the pain. The first time they form is uncomfortable at a minimum. Once the swelling has reached a certain point – which could be in a few hours to a couple days – Kirby will be taken to the bath. The warm water will help ease any discomfort. We will take turns to ensure Kirby does not _drown _from his fatigue."

Bun fidgeted where he stood. "Uh-"

"Right!" Fumu answered over Bun. In not even a second, Bun answered with the same spirit as his sister.

Sir Meta Knight had to admit he was surprised by how quickly the two sometime seemed to agree with him anymore but now, he reasoned, it was for the best. He nodded, showing he understood their drive to protect their comrade.

* * *

"Easy, Kirby," Bun said. He placed a gentle hand, a mimic of his sister, on the wet towel draped over Kirby's head and back. It wasn't yet morning when the masses had swelled to a point that the skin on Bun's own back crawled when looking at them. Now Kirby sat slumped over the edge of one of the many small tubs that lined the wall in a shower room in the bunker, shivering despite the warmth and steam from the bath. Bun ladled more of the hot water over Kirby's head. He could feel the tense muscles twitched in Kirby's back under the towel. "You'll get a proper nap soon," he tried to soothe but only got a small whine in return. "Shhh. Sh-sh-sh."

One of the two double doors opened for the umpteenth time and Sir Meta Knight and Blade reappeared. Sir Meta Knight handed Bun a basket as Blade set down another set of fresh towels, far away this time from the occupied bath.

"Just give him all of them now if he'll take them," Sir Meta Knight said.

Bun took the basket. The pile of energy bars, he found, were already unwrapped. "Right," he said as he tipped the basket to Kirby. "Open wide, Kirby."

Wordlessly, little blue eyes opened to regard the mass in front of his face. They closed soon after, but Kirby did as ordered and opened just enough for Bun to pour the contents of the basket into his waiting mouth. He grimaced as he swallowed and the muscles in his back squirmed under his skin.

"Urp!" Bun looked away, "it's like a bug laid giant eggs in his back~" he whined.

"Be nice, Bun," Fumu called over. She finally sat back up on one of the cots they had set up in the room she was trying to rest on. _I give up_, she thought. She wasn't going to be able to rest anyways.

"Poyo~" Kirby whined.

"How much longer," Bun grumbled this time.

"Kirby's body will know when." Sir Meta Knight leaned back. "All such things come eventually."

* * *

Fumu didn't like how Kirby's small body heaved with each breath now.

She mimicked Kirby's grimace as she pinched the soaked fabric of her cloths away from her skin. It had been useless to try to stay dry, so all three were now tired and uncomfortably wet. Sir Meta Knight had even removed his thick gloves and set them aside near the unused towels to dry. She wasn't surprised by the scars that crisscrossed over his hands but… She leaned back, her chain of thought broken as Sir Meta Knight moved passed her to finally remove the towel draped over Kirby. A reddish discoloration had spread beyond the swellings on his small back but at least the rawness from Kirby scratching had scabbed over. In those swellings, though, every so often something shifted inside, usually accompanied by a grunt from Kirby.

"Are you awake," Sir Meta Knight asked. Kirby warily nodded. "Hm. Remember: this won't be like your copy abilities, Kirby. These will be a physical part of you. If they are wounded, they will need time to heal. You will likely not be able to use them immediately and will need to practice in order to." Eyes still closed, Kirby nodded again.

"Is it actually happening," Bun asked behind them.

"It will happen when it happens. When they do finally form, the both of you stay back at first. There is likely a talon on the alula."

Bun leaned in closer anyways. "What's an al-u-la?"

"… A part of the wing. I will explain later." He straightened to grab another fresh towel from the stack. "We-" Kirby grunted again, his face scrunching together. Sir Meta Knight, too, rested his hand on Kirby's head, the first time since all of this had begun. "These things take an annoyingly long time, don't they?" he softly asked Kirby who didn't respond this time but merely continued to lie restlessly. "Fumu," Sir Meta Knight pointed to the extendable shower head above them as he finally started again, "please grab-" Sir Meta Knight had only enough time to lean back from over the tub as Kirby yelped and twin masses suddenly flared out towards the tile wall behind the tub.

"_Ew,_ _gross_! It's all over the wall!"

"_Bun!"_ Fumu chastised.

"The nozzle, Fumu," Sir Meta Knight shouted over the splashing. He wrestled with a flailing Kirby to keep him in the tub. "Pull the plug!"

"Right!" She leaned over just in time to narrowly miss being swatted in the face.

* * *

Finally clean and dry, Fumu curled into the extra bedding added to her cot. She wondered if the sun had risen yet but was too tired to care enough to check. She looked over at Kirby's mess of bedding and smiled. He finally looked peaceful. His new appendages, two downy wings that lacked flight feathers, rested on his back. An off-white color, something akin to the palest blue smoke, with a slight sheen to them like what you see when soap bubbles drifted. Hidden among the tuff of feathers on the 'wrists' of the wings were indeed a small talon.

When she woke up, she sleepily reasoned, they needed to figure out how to keep Kirby from accidently injuring his still unruly wings. When she woke up sometime later, though. Not now, she thought with a renewed smile.

Drifting, she realized she would also need to update their parents that they were alright. She wondered loosely about using the camping excuse again. They were camping in a way, in a place with all the amenities besides a homely paint job and random knickknacks. Although, even Dedede may soon notice their escapades and try to follow.

The dreams that came to her were mostly of flying past sublimely colored clouds that billowed impossibly high towards the stars. Once in a while, however, her features would scrunch up as she held her hands close to her chest in her sleep as fleeting nightmares teased her ideas of what could have happened to make thick scars that wrapped around both wrists like shackles.


	7. Missing Pieces

A/N: Posting at a crazy time at night. Let's see how much I missed, shall we?

A/N: I feel sorry for my Espio fic. It's alive but wandering, and suffers from my selective writer's block. I hope to make it something more proper.

A/N: - _he crossed his knees and that is when I realized they don't have knees I think maybe [sic]_, I wrote some chapter ago. To edit is to lose the funny train of thoughts lines that make their way into my writings.

* * *

Jargogled by Missing Screws

Today proved warmer than late and the sunlight streaming down into the secluded meadow felt good on her face. Fumu leaned back to watch the pillowy clouds growing higher and higher from the lack of upper winds to shear them down.

"Poy?"

She blinked, her attention streaking back down to her immediate world of a sun-warmed quilt and a sea of drying grasses. Kirby sat across from her, past a small pile of beginner reading books. A little arm peeped out from under his wings to point at the basket.

They seemed to have the natural tendency to fold in the front, each talon hooked over its wing's twin just under Kirby's line of sight. The method reminded her more of a bat than a bird, honestly. "You want some more sandwiches, Kirby," she asked.

"Poy!" In one gulp, another two sandwiches from the basket disappeared, gone in a moment as Kirby stuffed them in his mouth hidden under his wings.

Fumu hummed softly as she twirled a stray blade of grass she had plucked earlier between her fingers. _Wings, huh?_ Her mind wandered again to the clouds. Kirby had such a strong affinity for flight. Before it was amazing how Kirby could just float idly in the air. The addition of wings added to the equation.

What was his home star like? (_If he had one_.) It was probably amazing given Kirby's abilities. What other creatures with strange powers could exist there? Maybe his world was one of extreme cliffs and impossibly high flora. Maybe it somehow even had floating islands. (How would a planet have floating, or at least 'floating', islands?) Perhaps erosion produced suspended land masses, or strong magnetic fields interacting with layers of magnetic rock? There must be some reason that flight evolved in their species.

"Hey, Kirby," she finally asked, "what is your home star like?" Her wonder tinted sour as Kirby couldn't answer any of her questions. What were his parents like? Had he lived in a treehouse or some suspended structure? All of them went unanswered. A new hypothesis developed with each 'no' and it now made her heart ache. What is Kirby was too young to remember anything? Too young to know if he had had parents (_or something else_) or what his home star was like. Both options, too young and _other_, sadden her. With one, not remembering was heartbreaking, but on the flipside, for the other, she saw it most definitely as a blessing that freed him from a monster.

Kirby cooed happily as she gently rubbed his forehead, a habit that had become ingrained since this whole wing-incident started. "You'll always have a home here, Kirby," she forced away her sadness with a smile, "Remember that." He nodded, returning her smile with a genuine one.

* * *

"Woooohooooo!" It felt great to be out in the sun again. Being stuck either under Kabu or in the castle with homework proved to be a nightmare the longer this whole thing went on. He didn't even get to explore further into the Bunker, the knights saying it was too dangerous!

Bun turned right at the next corner, pulling a small wagon behind him. His main goal, getting to Mr. Tago's grocery store to pick up some package – an explicitly stated not immediately important one – for the knights, was the other way, so, first things first.

"Hey, guys!" Bun called as he neared the modest house. He wondered if they were even nearby. He'll have to try again tomorrow if they weren't. "Poooon! Yuuuuuuki!" He ran up and rang the bell, teetering back and forth on his feet as he waited.

"Hi, Mrs. Amamiya!" he greeted as the familiar form answered the door. "Are Pon and Yuki home?"

"P-"

"BUUUUUUUN!" The tiny voice crescendo with the sound of running footsteps slapping against the hardwood flooring. "How's Kirby?!" Pon said as she skidded to a stop at the doorway. "Is he alright?!"

"_Pon_."

Both she and Bun flinched at her mother's voice. "Eh…" she hesitantly looked up to her mother, finding her features stern. "Sorry, Mommy."

A smile returned as the tension fled Mrs. Amamiya's form. "And Yuki should be with Iro by the river. I asked them to catch some trout."

Bun frowned. The river was too off the route he had planned to take. "Eeh…Anyway!" Bun's mood brightened again. "I came by to say Kirby's fine. He'll probably still be gone for a while, though."

"How do he get hurt?" Pon asked.

"Huh? Oh." _(Don't say wings. Don't say wings.)_ "He wasn't hurt." Bun reached around and pointed to his own back. "It was just some rash he scratched." _More like he caused it from scratching too much, but…_

"Bun, you can get blood poisoning from infected wounds. It can be life-threatening." Mrs. Amamiya's frowned hardened.

"He's fine. We and the knights have been taking care of him." ((_Um, was I supposed to say that?))_

Besides Pon, her mother's hand quivered. "Mommy?" Pon asked, slipping her hand into her mother's. The twitching stilled as her mother's hand clasped around hers.

"Does the Guard need any supplies? Antiseptic? Antibiotics?" Mrs. Amamiya asked.

"Nah. I'm going to Mr. Tago's store to pick up some, uh, supplies. I was hoping Pon and Yuki could come with – at least to the store – so we could catch up! And I haven't gotten to see the last episode of Mr. Eddie. I wanted to know what happened."

"Can I go, Mommy?" Pon put on the best _pleeeease_ face she could muster.

"Alright but come back after Bun picks up the supplies. I don't want Bun to keep the Guard waiting."

Pon's face brightened. "Okay!" She disappeared for just a moment before appearing again as she jumped down the small set of steps in one leap, a small pack now strapped to her back. "Can I ride in the wagon?" she asked.

"Sure!"

With a determined smile and a giggle, Pon grabbed a flashlight from her pack. She climbed in, and bracing one foot onto its rim, brandished the flashlight like sword as a hero would when triumph in battle.

"Pon," her mother called from the doorstep.

"Yes, Mommy?"

"Don't stand in a wagon, Pon."

"Oh." Sheepishly, she settled down into the wagon's bed. "Sorry, Mommy."

* * *

Fumu sighed as she finally reached the top step. She paused there; the silence hanging around the castle would have been unsettling if she didn't long for her bed. Had King Dedede finally stopped with the announcements?

The sun was still about an hour from sunset but with everything finally catching up with her, she really just wanted to get to her bed so that investigation could wait until tomorrow. As she walked, she again had to remind herself that Kirby was safe under Kabu. Sword would be watching over him late into the night before Blade would switch with him. The Bunker was hidden from those not expecting it, and no demon beasts have been summoned anyway with King Dedede's attention elsewhere.

And a proper bed waited for her.

She looked up at the sturdy, metal-branded wooden door that wasn't hers that her traitorous feet had brought her to. Her mind wasn't going to let her rest just yet (something becoming too often as of late for her liking). But to her luck it was Sir Meta Knight who opened the door at her knock.

Her attention flickered to the clearly broken speaker laying in parts on the table against the wall. "No, there isn't any trouble," she replied, taking a seat in a nearby chair. Pacified by her answer, Sir Meta Knight took a seat himself, one at the table where the speaker laid. His eyes bored into her. He was waiting and Fumu fought the urge to grimace under the stare. Didn't he already know why she was here? "Do you know about Kirby's home star?" she redirected from her original question.

"…" His eyes wandered from her. Was he thinking, or avoiding her question? "No. I'm not aware of it."

"_Is_ he a demon beast?" she asked too quickly for her own liking.

"Aah, this again." He picked up one of the various screwdrivers laid out on the table. He let the silence steep as she glared at his now turned back and began trying to fix the speaker again.

"Well?" she pressed.

Sir Meta Knight paused at that. "I thought you wished to find out that answer yourself." She continued to try and stare him down but he seemed to care less. Instead, he picked out a couple screws from a small box of them. "… Is it important?" he added.

"… I don't know. Potentially?"

"Potentially?" He actually sounded confused.

"Is Kirby going to have to worry about other, more _troubling_ changes?" She held onto the word 'troubling', long enough to make sure he noticed.

"Hm," Sir Meta Knight nodded but didn't seem phased, "I can see now how that would be a concern."

"Will he?"

"I don't know everything about Kirby." He picked up a small, flat, and grey piece of something hard and transparent. It must have been some sort of spare part.

"You didn't tell us about them until you knew the wings were going to, uh… sprout." Her glare hardened. "You need to tell us these things! Is Kirby going to have to worry about turning into a monster?"

"… … …"

While she couldn't really read him on any given day, now was definitely one of those times, his body tense like stone and the only part of him that ever truly gave away his emotions - his eyes - were still turned away from her. "_Sir Meta Knight_." Fumu practically growled his name.

"Again, I do not know everything about Kirby. He's special. Almost unprecedented." Something clicked on the table. "For example, I don't know his limits." The screwdriver was replaced by a small ratchet. "For some, this is enough to fear the future. … I do know that puberty exists for his species. If some sort of worrisome change was going to occur like you're asking about – given how turbulent that time can be – demon beast or not, it could possibly be then but that is long off."

"So that's it? You're just sticking with that you don't know."

"I don't know," he reaffirmed. "But then again, I don't know of anyone who actually knows the future."

_Fine! I understand about the future but that's not ans-…_ Fumu sank into her seat. It was minutes before she spoke again. "So, who took that one out?" All she got was a low humorless chuckle. "King Dedede isn't going to retaliate?"

"He isn't aware of the incident." He glanced over at her. "It would be best if he didn't find out."

She nodded in understanding. He didn't have to worry about her saying anything. "… So did Dedede stop with the announcements for good?"

"For now. Hopefully he remains tired of them himself."

"Yeah," Fumu tried to get herself to relax and her mind to calm. "Hopefully at least until morning."

She had said her piece for now.

She was going to bed.

* * *

A/N: Sometimes I wonder if I'm making Fumu and Bun a little too oblivious. ¯\\_( ꒪꒳꒪ )_/¯

A/N: Certain inconsistencies are intended. The villagers see Sword and Blade as knights but they, themselves, do not. Fumu and Bun call it the Bunker – a super cool 'fort' if you will – but to the 'knights' it is just a[nother] bunker.

[[[[A/N: 'Screws' doesn't refer to mental state. I'm aware that is a common phrase in parts.]]]]


	8. Play & Billowing Clouds

Fof ch 8

A/N: The people reading this fairly regularly have probably recognized by now that I aim for an update every ~2 weeks.

A/N: I'm combining two chapters and will post again in abt 3 weeks.

Due to my [insert type of settlement, i.e., town/city/village] shutting itself down due to virus, I've had lots of free time but... I've written a lot more but none of its properly edited, and in addition, I joined an online DnD group for some semblance of social interaction. When not writing/coding, we're marathoning campaigns. We've played for over a week straight now and it's taking up a lot of time and exhausting. [One of the campaigns is my first time DM'ing.]

* * *

"-and then clap!" Bun's outstretched hands snapped to his front from out by his sides just as he popped the last word. "Now you try!"

"Po~" Kirby's face scrunched as he concentrated. One of the wings finally flexed, and Kirby's head twisted to try to look back at it. Its twin flared out in response, and Kirby followed with one strong beat of his wings against the ground, kicking dirt into Bun's face as he shot himself into the sky.

"Oh, crap! Kirby!" Bun said as he spat. When he finally managed to wipe the dirt from his eyes, Kirby had already inflated and was rolling haphazardly above the meadow as his wings beat without coordination. Spitting again, Bun splinted to catch up. "No! Don't flap now! Come on!" but Kirby just renewed his squirming, trying to stabilize himself. "You're just making it worst, Kirby! Here," he said, outstretching his arms above him, "ease out your air! I'll catch you!"

Back at the picnic blanket, Fumu sighed, shaking her head as Kirby dropped on to her brother. While there was laughter from the two boys, things remained quiet around the blanket as Fumu and Sir Meta Knight sat observing. "So," Fumu started but didn't continue. Her gaze shifted to the corner of her vision and narrowed at Sir Meta Knight.

"Hm?" he finally answered as the string of tension between them slowly tightened.

"You don't have some deadly task for Kirby so he can learn to use his wings?"

"He is already learning. Play is important for young."

"…"

Sir Meta Knight sighed as he turned away from her. "I was hoping that some instinct from Wing Kirby would be carried over but it's obvious now that it wouldn't matter as Kirby's wings will take time to develop properly. They don't have the strength at this stage. Besides, he mustn't rely solely on his copy abilities. He needs to train his whole self."

"Hmm, yeah," she said thoughtfully, "that makes sense..."

Out in the meadow, again, Kirby was flung into the air but this time it had clearly been on purpose as Kirby beamed brightly and giggled as he rolled in the air.

Both noticed Bun jogging over before he actually called out to them.

"Hey Sir Meta Knight!"

"Yes, Bun?"

"So, um, I was wondering: can the other kids come see Kirby's new wings?"

"… Eventually."

Bun's expression fell. "They won't tell anyone," he stressed, "and they wouldn't tell Dedede. Promise!"

"That is for them to promise, Bun. You cannot promise for them."

"Wait!" Fumu interrupted, "Did you tell someone?"

"_Noo_," he planted his fists on his hips in defiance and defense, "but they could help."

"Only after Kirby show signs of consciously recognizing how to reabsorb his wings on command. Then, and only then, will we introduce this to the village. By that time, come what may, Kirby's chances of handling trouble will be higher as he would be showing signs of controlling his wings." He paused. "But your friends can be helpful with making the other villagers familiar with the change before the king has the chance to sway opinions negatively. Just not now."

There was a silence that followed. Sir Meta Knight glanced between the two before both simultaneously broke it.

"_Reabsorb?" _Bun asked as Fumu muttered something under her breath, her hand slapping up to cover her face.

"Yes."

The silence was back for the moment.

"Oh, for the love of," Fumu shook her head as she grabbed for another sandwich.

"Oookaaaaaay… what you mean, negatively?" Bun scoffed. "They're just wings. … And when is that? Years from now?" he added jokingly.

"It's unlikely it would be that long."

Surprised splattered across Bun's face. "What?! You mean there's a chance that Kirby wouldn't be able to go to the village for _years_!"

"Like I said, it is unlikely it would take years," he said but Bun was clearly still fretting. With a sigh, Sir Meta Knight grabbed one of the drink cans, Bun's in fact, and got to his feet. "Can you finish the rest of this?" he asked Bun.

"Um," both siblings stared at the knight, "yeah." He took it, again wiping absentmindedly at the dirt staining his face before quickly downing the last few gulps and replacing it in the knight's still outstretched hand.

They watched as Sir Meta Knight walked out from the picnic blanket. Some distance away he used his heel to draw a line in the dirt where there was a balder patch of grass. He kept walking, finally stopping at one of the small boulders that protruded from the sea of grasses.

"Kirby!" he called out.

Above them Kirby waved down at them, idly spinning from yet another liftoff. "Hm-Hm!"

Sir Meta Knight placed the can of the boulder before turning back up to Kirby. "I have another game for you." He smirked as Kirby clearly reacted to 'game'. "Stand at that line," he pointed to the line he had drawn in the dirt, "and try to knock this can down with only the gust from your wings."

"Poyo!" Both arms and wings flailed out in joy as Kirby exclaimed and subsequently dropped. Before even the worried gasps from the picnic blanket had ended, Kirby gulped in again, just enough to land softly on the grasses.

Kirby giggled as he jumped onto the line and beat his wings towards the boulder in one continuous motion. The can _may_ have shifted, but at the distance Kirby was from it, it wasn't knocked off as most of the force instead, again, flung Kirby backwards. With a hop, Kirby was back at the line with a determined smile on his face.

"Good. Now again."

* * *

Her pen stilled as a sort of longing came over her. She bit her lip to try to stave off the sadness-like feeling threatening to surface in full force.

"Urg," she laid down her pen in the open spine of her journal and rolled onto her back. The sight of her bedroom ceiling did little to quell the swelling feeling or bring about something new to distract her.

In the last couple days, the idea of flying – of flying on your own power – had preoccupy her. You could just decide one day to take a trip to somewhere and just go, your wings taking you faster than any number of feet. She wouldn't say she was envious of Kirby. She was old enough to know that letting such thoughts go uncheck was dangerous, but to _actually fly_ sounded amazing.

…When she was younger, the texturing on her ceiling would serve as her clouds on rainy days. When had been the last time that she done that?

Her eyes darted to the floor near her bedroom door as she sucked in the tiniest breath before pausing to listen.

…

…

…

While the stone walls of the castle didn't allow sounds to pass easily through, sounds echoed for a long way down the series of hallways and vents. If she focused between her paused breaths, she could hear a heavy stepping through the vent by her bedroom door. Exactly where, though, was the question. It was either relatively close or from the area near the kitchen. Sure, the kitchen was plausible, but this late after dinner? Deciding, she rolled off her bed and quickly plucked the dried flowers from a simple vase [made herself a billion years ago] on her dresser. She replaced the small journal within it, returned the flowers, and slipped under her covers with as little creaking she could manage. With a click, darkness engulfed her.

After a couple of building breaths, she held her inhale again. Little that could be taken as pounding steps against stone and brick sounded from the vent. She turned on to her side, settling for now into her mattress to at least be comfortable as she waited.

* * *

"Fumu!"

"ACK!" Fumu jolted up, her flashlight under her pillow nearly rolling off the bed. Her room was blinding now but she still managed to catch it before it fell.

"Come on-come on-come on!" Bun said, jumping between both feet.

"What?! Bun?!" _DARNITIFELLASLEEPWHATTIMEISIT-_

"Weird Old Haruo says he found a monster in the Wilds!"

"A demon beast?"

"I don't know~ Come on! He's talking to Sir Meta Knight _right noooow!_"

Frown hardening, Fumu threw off her covers to free her feet, this time with enough force so that the sheets bunched against the wall before sliding to the floor.

* * *

When they rounded the corner, they saw Blade standing by the door to the knights' quarters. His gaze followed the two siblings as they hurried to him.

"What happened?!" Fumu exclaimed.

"_Sh!_" Blade had a finger to his mask. "You can enter but be quiet. Don't interrupt." When both finally nodded, Blade twisted the door open for them to slip in.

Despite the fair few number of people in the room, the space was edging on crowded. Both of them hugged the wall to give Weird Old Haruo space as they scooted towards Sir Meta Knight's old leather chair which he normally kept flushed to the side wall.

The knight barely glanced in their direction from his seat in the chair, but Weird Old Haruo's words paused as he stared at them in confusion. "No, but-

"Why…" he started again.

Sir Meta Knight raised a hand to stop the question. "They will not be getting involved. Continue."

Weird Old Haruo took one more long glance at them before his piercing stare returned to Sir Meta Knight. "The forest beasts gotten it before I found it, so I can't tell if the wound is blade or bite, but anything that took out a mam viper the size of six cappies and dragged its leftovers all the way from the Wilds to the northern edge of the forest is dam- ahem," he glanced at the siblings with the smallest of pauses, "trouble."

Sir Meta Knight nodded and slipped off the chair to the floor.

"Sir Meta Knight?" Fumu asked softly.

Sir Meta Knight had opened the door before turning back to the three. "I will be back shortly. Our course of action will be decided then." He nodded to Blade as he left, closing the door behind himself.

"Kirby still can't fight right now," Bun whispered under his breath.

_Yeah_, Fumu thought pensively. Her lip stung as she bit a little too hard into it.

* * *

Every time he pushed through these passageways – narrow even for him, dark, and stone steps worn – he was reminded how the waddle dees avoided them. They were built with the intention for castle servants to go about their work unseen in a bygone age, emerging only when needed to deliver goods or services before disappearing back into the dimly lit realm behind hidden doors. Now the candles in the iron settings above him were dust-caked and crumbling (but he didn't need them).

He came to where bricks had been removed on one side of this passageway. Beyond the hole, faint flickering of electronics dotted the pitch. He stepped down to and off the small crate they had used as a stairstep and slipped over to the main collection of blinking lights. Light bloomed into the small area as he flipped open the small computer and studied the logs.

He frowned at the lack of receiving/transmitting entries. No entries? None for around a week?

With the screen folded closed, the darkness swallowed the space again. One would have to focus hard to hear the slight tapping on the top of the closed computer.

* * *

He avoided this part of the passageways for a reason. These sections were as structurally sound as the others, but one dropped item or scrape against brick could mean trouble, and even the metal side of a tank fatigues against repeated blows. Finding the slot he needed, he pulled himself up the minimum ladder anchored into the stone brick.

His eyes widened as his eyes traveled from the king to the room and back. Even from here, Sir Meta Knight could tell the king had not bathed for some time, his clothes and face stained. Glass cup and bottle had been smashed against the walls, their contents staining the ornate carpets, gilded walls, and heavily embroidered bedding. Sir Meta Knight eased down to the too-smooth step below. His own steeping silence mirrored the king's as he stood there. Anger flared hotly within Sir Meta Knight before sparking out again to near numbness.

… He should be angry. The child-king is likely just dejected that he doesn't have the fledgling as a plaything to throw demon beasts at, or as some goal to surmount, but Sir Meta Knight couldn't fan the anger. … Was it confliction?

_No_, came back strongly.

…

He was getting soft with his growing age.

* * *

There was purpose in Sir Meta Knight's step as he entered the room. "Bring out the table," he called out as he unlocked one of the nearby chests that lined the wall of their quarters. As soon as Blade had clicked the legs into place, Sir Meta Knight laid out a series of maps on its top.

"Fumu. Bun."

They crowded closer.

"Do _not_ get involved in this. This includes chasing after whatever this is." Any reply from either were cut off as Sir Meta Knight continued. "You already know what your goals are." He gave them a pointed look.

"However," he added as a set of mismatched weights were set on the corners of the top map, "pay attention and learn."

He looked to Weird Old Haruo. "Do you have the bearings?"

"Yes."


	9. Truths & Sighs & A Little Whistlebird

Fof ch 9

A/N: A wild the-actual-plot appeared!

A/N: I think that I maybe found my ideal occupation during all this, and of course it's unrealistic in ways. Sitting under a tree, a solid bench and table, and just write and play games (video, board, DnD, etc.) all day with anyone who would join me. (What doesn't help is that my tree has seedpods that throw seeds at a speed that can literally injure the eye but that's mostly a separate matter. The sprays of yellow flowers, though, is worth it.)

A/N: So I've actually managed to write **a lot**. The document is ridiculously long and I question myself. If I feel like it's finally edited properly, I may switch to weekly updates for a while as there could be 6+ chapters (~900-2000 word) in the backlog. (Perhaps I _have_ gone insane with the quarantine.)

✧ (ゝ◡╹)ノ ✧ (ゝ◡╹)ノ ✧ (ゝ◡╹)ノ ✧ (ゝ◡╹)ノ ✧ (ゝ◡╹)ノ ✧ (ゝ◡╹)ノ ✧ (ゝ◡╹)ノ✧ (ゝ◡╹)ノ ✧ (ゝ◡╹)ノ ✧ (ゝ◡╹)ノ ✧ (ゝ◡╹)ノ ✧ (ゝ◡╹)ノ ✧ (ゝ◡╹)ノ ✧ (ゝ◡╹)ノ✧ (ゝ◡╹)ノ ✧ (ゝ◡╹)ノ ✧ (ゝ◡╹)ノ ✧

Truths and Sighs and A Little Whistlebird

"Are you _sure_ they didn't say anything interesting in these 'comms'? Maybe this thing is so big that its footprints look like ponds," Bun asked suddenly but not unexpectantly.

Blade looked over to the two occupied cots where the two boys (Bun and Kirby) had seemingly been sleeping. "They know what they're doing, Bun." Blade's gaze eased behind him, back towards the table he leaned against before he caught himself and snatched it back. "Just get some sleep."

The boy stirred but didn't rise to sit. "But shouldn't they have found it by now?"

"We need to be patient, Bun."

"How hard can it be to find something that ate everything but the head of a giant snake?"

"The Wilds are called 'the Wilds' for a reason." Blade gave a soundless sigh of relief as Bun groaned and turned over in his cot, apparently giving up for now.

It would be about ten minutes before a light snoring started and Blade let himself sag.

Blade tried to refocus on whittling the little … something in his hand. It was going to be a whistle but had turned into a little bird not too many cuts in. Its top half had been freed from the scrap block of wood, but the tail feathers were closer to an end of a whistle. … _Bird-whistle or bird whistle_, his mind nonsensically joked. He reached back without looking and, albeit a bit awkwardly, laid his short knife on the table.

Both hands easily clasped around the little whistlebird as he fanned his will. Pushing all thoughts away, he finally turned in his seat far enough to see the entire surface of the small table behind him. His gaze caught on the cleaned jam jar sitting in the middle of the table and the several dandelion puffs settled within it.

_(Why-)_

One of the children must have set it up earlier in the afternoon while he was doing his patrol.

_(Why was it plaguing him now? He needed to stay focused.)_

Blade gingerly took out the smallest puff, careful to not scatter its fluff. He turned back and it joined whistlebird within his clasped hands as he sat, hunched, in the chair.

There were similar flowers on his home planet, he finally admitted to himself, and his heart clenched in his chest. (He wondered absentmindedly if all children like funny little fluffy flowers.) Maybe it was because they had been staying in the bunker so much lately.

Yeah… … maybe that was it.

…

…

…

He hoped Sir Meta Knight would think of something.

* * *

Each new day turned a little colder; the leaves of certain plants a little warmer. With the moon dipping down past the horizon, the number of days Sir Meta Knight and Sword had been gone totaled five.

It was before noon, the sun now partially countering the chilling day, when a certain bit of chance but advantageous hearsay passed by Escargoon.

This was the last straw! He had had _enough_ of this, but _first_ he needed! To! Open! This! Damn! Do-

"Oh-aahH!" His arms flailed as he grabbed awkwardly for the door handles, but they were already behind him and out of reach. The rugs over the tile floor did little to cushion his fall. He gave himself the smallest of pauses to let the pain in his face and left wrist ebb away before peeling himself up. Concern flared in him before he realized that the deep red and filth he had wiped from his face and chest only smelled of stale spirits and old food. Now… now he was just disgusted.

"_Sire!"_ Escargoon yelled as he worked through a maze made stacks of plates. "We have an-"

"NO!"

Escargoon stopped in his tracks as a sliver of that fear he hated wormed in his gut. _No_, his own will yelled from within. "We have more important things to worry about than your hissy fit!"

"_**What did you say?**__"_

"Eh," he squeaked but it only furthered fueled the pounding in his head which aided his focus as his determination swelled again. "EMERGENCY, _you_ _**dingus**_!"

"Huh?"

"Those knights were holding out on us! There's apparently some big monster in the woods eating stuff, and they didn't tell us!"

"Aaand?" King Dedede would have rolled his eyes if he had the strength.

"Meta Knight and one of his lackeys went out to kill the thing days ago and haven't returned!"

"…" King Dedede stilled until, finally, he rolled partway onto his side and studied Escargoon. "… You think that lazy ass is dead?"

"I don't know, but we're in deep trouble if that thing comes down here and start eating folk!"

"… … Urg!" King Dedede snatched at the beaded cord hanging above the bed. It slipped through his fingers multiple times before an exasperated Escargoon jumped up, grabbed it, and landed on the bed, causing a large bell to distantly sounded once in the wall. With a bitten-off growl, Escargoon slapped it into King Dedede's still grasping hand.

_Dong!Dong!Dong!_

Waddle dees flooded into the room from the hall. "PREPARE MY BATH! CLEAN MY SUITE! PREPARE STUDIO SET C! BRING THE SCRIBE!"

* * *

The first few steps onto a true road gave the sense of clouded relief. With just a minute of walking, they would be encountering some of the farthest homes from the village center, but they spied Blade jogging towards them before they gone that far. Blade didn't signal trouble, so each kept their pace.

"Sir! Sword! Are you alright?" Blade said as he neared close enough not to shout. Tired, they implied, but neither injured. Bladed nodded in understanding before continuing, "Is it true?"

It was Sir Meta Knight's turn to nod.

"Sir, I know this may be- I don't mean to sound not-understanding, _but they_ _are threa_\- … what's the plan?" he finally asked, the anger that had been growing with each word fading.

Sir Meta Knight didn't immediately answer. His eyes wandered before closing in thought. "We're not taking that kind of forward direction with this."

"You managed to get them to back down?"

_No. _"We were just lucky."

"Sir?" Blade asked, uncertain.

"… Decorum has its uses: it delayed any dueling long enough for me to state our case." (… _A truth …)_ "A workable alternative has been reached."

"… Sir," Blade started again, his worry still evident. "The King heard about there being trouble in the Wilds this morning. He's preparing a televised speech at the moment. … We best get back before he tells the whole kingdom that you two had been eaten by a monster."

Sir Meta Knight gave a dry laugh, his eyes shifting to Sword. "I'll deal with the King. Please update Blade so he can start procuring the supplies. You are free to rest afterwards."

"Yes, sir."

"We have three days, but we best start now," Sir Meta Knight said to the two. "Store the supplies under Kabu."

"Right!"

* * *

He entered as directed by Waddledoo, but he had yet to actually enter the room and his senses already stung from the overpowering smell of too many different flowers pungently mixing together.

Upon a raised pedestal in the middle of the room stood the King. His arms outstretched, and with the finishing layers of robs having yet to be wrapped around him, his swelled middle that strained his lower back was exposed. Sir Meta Knight avoided glancing at it to temper his sour thoughts as well as mildly fearing the King's reactive anger.

"So…" King Dedede started, causing the waddledee applying makeup for … something to pause less they smeared it, "is the monster taken care of?"

Sir Meta Knight eyed the king's reflections in the series of wall-length ornate mirrors. No set of eyes but the King's true bored into him. "Yes," he finally said.

"Good." The King's glare fell on a cluster of waddledees by the door. "Script D! Go! Go! Go!" They clambered over themselves as they scattered in different directions. "You're dismissed," he added shortly.

Once out of the room, out of that smell, and away from the tens of glaring faces reflecting like a kaleidoscope, Sir Meta Knight slowed his pace as he headed to his quarters.

He eased onto his bed with a tired sigh and sunk into its softness.

He'll wash the bedding later.

* * *

d(￣▽￣o) For author use to determine which emoticons/symbols will work properly. (o￣▽￣)b

(*´ω｀*) ヾ(*´▽｀)ﾉ (ᗒᗨᗕ) ┗(＾∀＾)┛ ˛₍˴◅ˋ)੭✧

(((o (◜▿‾ ≡‾▿◝)o))) （*´▽｀*） (´∇ﾉ｀*)ノ ᕕ( ᐛ )ᕗ

＼\٩( 'ω' )و /／ (≖︿≖ ) (´_ゝ`) (ㆆᴗㆆ)

|ω・｀)ノ (๑˃ᴗ˂)و (○´―`)ゞ

.

.

.

∠( ᐛ 」∠)＿ Draw me like one of your French emoticons.


	10. Snaggles & the Herald's Herald

A/N: Okay… sooooo apparently – well… I made a new one document, copypasted all the written-out contents, and cleaned it up, and I found out that it is indeed 6+ chapters in the backlog. If you divide the word count by a thousand, which is what I aim for as a minimum word count per chapter, there are

…

Weeeeelll

…

_**Twenty-one 'chapters' in the backlog**_

…

…

…

…

(≖ _ ≖)

…

(≖ o ≖) ( What have I done?)

* * *

A/N: So, I think I may need to put a disclaimer on something that's coming up in this chapter. Someone says something that people may find odd while others may find offensive. Spoilery (a.k.a. a sign of bad writing) is that they don't mean harm to any, they are just stumbling in their communication and not properly saying what they're trying to say.

* * *

Mr. Tago was being ridiculous: it wasn't getting too cold for ice cream! Maybe it was too cold for, say, swimming in the river, but it definitely wasn't too cold for ice cream!

Either way, Bun thanked him as he took the offered cone, and ran outside to the others. They had taken up familiar spots on the wooden fence edging the road and Bun happily climbed up to his own.

"I wish I could go exploring the north," Pon muttered before biting off the top of her cone.

"Eh, it's probably just going to be real exhausting," Bun replied. "If Sir Meta Knight is coming to babysit, then it's just going to be practice, practice, practice."

"… Practice what," Iro asked.

"MmHm," Bun shrugged. "Maybe building campfires or building different shelters. Maybe foraging."

"Do you think you're going hunting?" Pon asked. Her expression soured. "I don't know if I could … hunt."

"You can practice making campfires and shelters here," Iro said carefully as he eyed Bun. "You don't have to go north to practice things like that."

"I really don't know, guys~" Bun teetered back in frustration.

"The land's pretty different to the north," Yuki chimed in. "Maybe he'll teach you about camping in the snow?"

"Urrrg." Exasperated, Bun just returned his focus to his cone. He had to admit, though, camping in the snow did sound like something that could be really fun – as long as they could stay warm enough.

"Hey, Bun?"

Iro's lowered tone immediately caught Bun's attention but it was his hunching posture that made Bun worried. "Yeah?" he whispered back.

"Bun, my mom is getting really worried."

"Worried?" Bun sort of chuckled.

"She's worried that… she worried how you and Fumu are always getting into trouble with Kirby and the knights." He glanced to the other kids. "We know that Kirby has been sick, and that you need to keep him away from King Dedede-"

"He's _fine_."

"-but you're spending more and more time with them."

"… And?" he said, but Iro didn't seem to be able to add to his words.

Bun cocked an eyebrow. He admits it: he was confused right now.

"She's worried that I'm going to get hurt," Iro finally managed to sputter out.

"Hurt?"

"Come on, Bun. Danger is following – homing in on you guys. You're going camping where a monster had popped up. What if there is more of them?!"

"Well, then we'll deal with them."

"Bun, _that!_"

"Huh?"

"_That_, right _there_. Bun, my mom's worried for you and Fumu."

"… …"

"You're going to get hurt!"

"… Sir Meta Knight didn't mention anything about more monsters," was all Bun could think to say. However, memories of _but would he even tell us if something was wrong_ came back to him.

A silence settled over the four.

Gingerly, Pon leaned over, gaining the attention of the three others as she gave Bun a small smile. "Just remember to tell us about it when you get back. Okay?"

Bun wanted to throw his hands into the air and just fall back (on something softer than grass) and away from this conversation. "Yeah. I will."

* * *

Fumu paused in her packing at the knock on her bedroom door. She quickly stowed away the not-small knife in her bag before calling to them to enter.

Her father's face appeared as her door was eased open. Fumu smiled but she could already tell something was wrong, and she figured she already knew what. "Is something wrong?"

"Oh? No."

_(Suuure_.)

"Fumu," he started, and Fumu relaxed for whatever came next, "I am worried about you and Bun going to those woods."

"It's fine. We're not going that far." She secured a length of rope to her bag.

Her father eased into her space to separate her attention from her pack. "Fumu, you are my child and I worry."

"I'm fine, Papa."

"Fumu, people like the knights, soldiers who have actually seen extensive combat, can be incredibly dangerous. They can lose their footing… They can lose their understanding of… certain delicate aspects."

Fumu gave her father a confused and incredulous look. "What's that supposed to mean?"

Her father sighed but straightened. "Do not misunderstand. They hold an extremely vital role in the kingdom but so do you. You and your brother are heirs to our position. You two will one day advise the king's heirs."

Her nose crunched up at that.

"Do not give me that. Youth gives you much freedom, but you must remember your position."

"I've already finished my lessons for the next couple days, Papa, and I'll finish the remainder when we get back."

"… It is vital to know how the people of the kingdom think and have a working relationship with those who will one day follow your orders but you must also learn how to deal with the elites of other kingdoms. One day soon the King will be courting, and you must know how to navigate the complexities of etiquette to help ease the impact of the King's more … troubling aspects."

"The only one who can fix that mess is King Dedede himself."

"Fumu," he stressed, but the rest of his words were cut off as Fumu hugged him suddenly.

"Everything will be fine," she mumbled into his clothes.

"…" He returned the hug. "I hope so."

* * *

With no sun to warm her, the chill of a night before the first glow of dawn seeped into any exposed skin. The temperature didn't call for heavier clothes so Fumu would have to wait until the constant exertion of hiking warmed her. Both her and her brother sleepily wiped at their eyes as they almost absentmindedly followed Sir Meta Knight's form and the light he held.

Their first destination was apparently one of the meadows around Kabu, and Fumu stalled in her step as she realized Sword and Blade stood next to a moderate-sized crate. "Sir Meta Knight?"

"Come," he said simply, never breaking his just-slightly-hurried stride. He reached Sword's side of the crate just as Kirby popped up from behind it and clambered onto its top to babble at Sir Meta Knight. His downy wings unwrapped from around him to stretch and flutter as if he was showing off to or gesturing to Sir Meta Knight.

"… This isn't a camping trip, is it?" Fumu finally asked.

"It is. For the most part."

"Then what's this for?" Bun added.

"Not here," was replied, barely audible.

* * *

The first glow of dawn was barely noticeable when Sir Meta Knight paused and clicked off the light. The four of them stood in silence as the siblings realized that, yes, the light had gone out, and yes, deliberately.

"Uh?" Bun mumbled from somewhere to Fumu's left in the darkness. The moon was still out but it would be a bit before her eyes adjusted. Her hand tightened around Kirby's instinctually to make sure he didn't slip from her grasp and wander off.

"Take a short break but don't go far. The checkpoint is close, but we need to reach it without a light. … I will be back shortly," he said. He had paused, but with no questions from the siblings, he silently slipped off into the brush.

It took Fumu a few moments to even realize he had actually gone.

"Suuuure," Fumu muttered once she knew for sure he was gone, but she happily dropped down to rest against her side of the crate. Sir Meta Knight was right that it wasn't as heavy as it looked but it was plenty heavy when carrying for long distances. She sat to rest against the crate and pulled Kirby closer to her. He wiggled, more awake now than when she had been leading him by the hand as they walked, but quickly settled against her warmth. Fumu smiled as his wings wrapped around them both snuggly but she was all too aware of those talons pressed against the outside of her jacket. They didn't cut in, but it seemed to be Kirby's instinct to grab with them. (It was so weird.) Any questions that came to her she let go as she just let herself rest.

* * *

"Oh, thank the _goooods~_" Bun said and subsequently collapsed over his side of the crate. "I can't feel my aaaaaaaarms."

Fumu, Kirby still in hand, drifted towards a large tree, one of the largest ones around as far as she could see. Long clumps of grey moss draped from its thick branches where its snaggle of gnarled roots drove deep into the soil. "This is the checkpoint?"

"Yes," Sir Meta Knight said, setting down his side of the crate.

"Are we setting up camp here?"

"No."

"Can we at least have breakfast?" Bun asked, still laid out over the top of the crate, his head not lifting to speak.

"Poy? Poy!" Kirby slipped from Fumu's grasp and toddled to Sir Meta Knight. "Poy-poy! Nom!" He gaped his mouth up at Sir Meta Knight but didn't inhale.

"… In a moment." A hand was placed on Kirby's head to stop his jumping against his side.

Fumu saw how Sir Meta Knight's eyes slowly scanned the area. She stilled, wondering exactly what it was that Sir Meta Knight had got them into. When his attention fell onto his pack and there was no sense of urgency as he fiddled for something within, however, Fumu relaxed just a bit, and drifted closer to Kirby to catch him in case he started going off somewhere.

Bun perked up as Sir Meta Knight pulled a couple pre-made pouches from his pack. "Do we have enough time to make something warm?" Bun asked.

"Not a large fire, but yes. Make one under the densest part of the canopy."

"Alright!"

* * *

Something had caused her eyes to snap open. Unseeing at first, she blinked, recognizing greenery of a forest and the heaviest of her tired body. What was… did something happen?

Quietly as possible, she eased up, remembering why and how she came to be laying on her unrolled sleeping bag.

The fire was nearly out. Sir Meta Knight, despite currently sitting by it, had let it go to near embers. Their eyes met but he looked away, back down to something small in his hand seemingly without a concern.

… _What had_-

Fumu froze as a whistle warbled distantly. Her eyes jumped to Sir Meta Knight, but he was still passively sitting there. (Though, that thing in his hand was apparently something made from weaving small strands of cord.)

_That_ wasn't a bird. Birds don't sound like that: like several birds' voices layered over each other and originating from one point.

She eased to her feet as Sir Meta Knight was just then putting away the thing. Her eyes searched around her. Her brother was also awake, paused and listening as well but stuck laying on his own back with Kirby sleeping across his stomach.

"Easy, Fumu." Finally, Sir Meta Knight stood.

_What is that_, she mouthed.

"An ally."

Confusion scrunched her features. The furrows deepened as, with one last short trill, a form slipped from the brush. A metal mask and a large axe across their back were the first things that caught her attention.

"So, these are the young ones that have started following you around?" a smug voice chuckled.

* * *

(ㆆ_ㆆ) ( … Will the quarantine create a renaissance for those stuck at home? Unable to work so creating what they never had time to create before?)


	11. Three Too Many Promises

Three Too Many Promises

* * *

"Children. This is Sir Lancelot of the G.S.A. We fought together…" Sir Meta Knight glanced to Sir Lancelot, "_many_ years ago."

Fumu eased closer. "H-hello."

"Hi," Bun called over, still trying to gingerly get Kirby off him. With a final grunt, Bun managed to get Kirby to roll off his stomach. His flailing wings, however, swatted Bun, the area which he was now rubbing from the stinging, but Bun at least had managed to free himself.

As Kirby rolled to a stop, his blue eyes blinked in confusion at the new face. He jumped to his feet and quickly sprinted to the area behind Sir Meta Knight and Fumu. Leaning against Fumu's side, Kirby peered closer at the new form, studying the mask and down by his sides where apparently no swords were sheathed – just twin daggers.

"Well, look at you, fledgling."

"Poy?"

Those same yellow eyes, Fumu noted, shifted to Sir Meta Knight. "So how are we going to do this?"

"I still need to explain to the children. I needed to wait until I knew we were alone and weren't followed."

"Explain what," Fumu's gaze narrowed on the two knights. "What's going on? Is the monster still loose?" That earned a dry scoff from Sir Lancelot which just added to her confusion.

"Our true destination," Sir Meta Knight began, "is well within the Wilds. We wouldn't reach it on foot in a timely manner, so I have asked Sir Lancelot to aid us.

"A group has made a small … settlement - a homestead would be adequate," he quickly added, "in the unclaimed stretches of the Wilds, and it is imperative that relations are established between them and Pupupuland _without_ the king getting involved."

That … was not what she was expecting.

"They know you are children and have sworn to be patient and forgiving of your inexperience, but you _must_ be on your best behavior."

The silence grew longer after his words until Bun finally, hesitantly ambled over. "… Holy crap," he muttered.

"What exactly are we supposed to do?" Fumu asked. The first waves of panic swelled within her.

"Build rapport, of course," Sir Lancelot supplied.

_Build rapport? Like that explains everything!_ "Rapport?" She turned to Sir Meta Knight. "We're _just_ to _build_ rapport?"

"Can you just get them to leave?" Bun interjected to which Sir Meta Knight and Sir Lancelot glanced at each other.

"No," Sir Meta Knight said with finality.

Bun's eyebrows furrowed. "But why not?"

"You don't have to worry," Sir Lancelot cut in as the pause from Sir Meta Knight grew longer. "Just be friendly and polite, try to be helpful where you can, and we'll all have a festival sometime in the coming months." His attention shifted to Sir Meta Knight. "I was talking with Allyria. She already had ideas for starting some kind of feast on the solstice. Something with a lot of lights."

This 'pleasant chatting' wasn't quelling her worry. "Sir Meta Knight?"

"… You must not talk about this to the other villagers," he said. "_This is very important._ Anything you learn must stay out here. The king cannot know. He will just incite violence and we _don't want that option on the table._ If the villagers know, eventually the king will. We need to form a connection before he is allowed to cause trouble."

"You're going to have to give us more to go on than this," Fumu urged.

"… When we arrive, you will first get settled in a tent set aside for you. Then we will head to the main tent. You will meet with Morriphina, and things will be explained to you more fully. There is no intricate decorum. Just leave any weapons – knives included – in your tent, bow when you say your name, and do not curse. Even 'crap'… and 'fart'."

"Those aren't cuss words," Bun said, and Sir Meta Knight gave him a pointed look. "I know not to say 'fart' in these kind of situations," he stressed.

"And the evening meal should be soon after," Sir Lancelot added. "You can use it as a bonding exercise – at least with the other children."

Fumu threw her hands up. "_Really?!_"

"Who do we need to be careful of?" Bun asked.

"Morriphina," Sir Meta Knight replied.

"The head honcho. 'Kay."

Sir Lancelot partially turned away from the group. "I'll pull the speeder closer."

Sir Meta Knight nodded, his attention falling back to the children as Sir Lancelot moved out.

"This is seriously crazy, Sir Meta Knight."

"I would not have sprung such a matter like this if it wasn't important."

"I … I know, but still."

"_I_ am the one who should be saying apologies, but we must work with the present. I am trusting you two with a very important task and sensitive knowledge. These words may seem cruel but do not show me I have misplaced that trust."

"Um…" Fumu nodded dumbfoundedly, Sir Meta Knight's words just adding on more and more and more layers of confusion.

* * *

She wasn't sure what exactly she was expecting for this settlement but as they stepped off the small hovercraft, she surveyed the clearing they exited to. Various sized tents ringed around a main living area, camouflaged like the surrounding forest. A large campfire was situated in the middle of the area but was unlit, and various pots and tools were laid out on thick blankets near it. This close up it was easy to tell the tents apart from the actual forest, at least she thinks she could differentiate them all, and their number suggested few people. Was such a small number of people still considered a settlement? _Wait, Sir Meta Knight did switch to saying 'homestead_'. She had been thinking 'colony'.

And it was quiet. Really quiet.

They had been directed to their tent and had put away their packs and still hadn't heard anything but the birds above them in the trees. She and Bun joined Sir Meta Knight at the entrance of their tent and her emotions chaotically churned and swelled as they waited. "Where's Kirby?" she asked as her worry spiked in realization that Kirby had seemingly drifted off somewhere.

"Sir Lancelot is watching him for the moment…" Sir Meta Knight voice softened. "This tension should ease as each grows familiar with the other."

"Huh?" both siblings asked.

"Morriphina won't harm you and isn't easily offended."

Even with that said, Fumu still swallowed hard as she stepped out into the nigh-freezing air.

* * *

By now she wasn't expecting to enter a throne room and that _was_ what she got. Stacks of crates lined most sides of the main tent. In the middle of the area was several tables made of thin but strong metal pushed together. Simple, backless plank benches were its chairs. Possibly a large stove sat to the side, two wide pots on its top giving away the chuck of metal's potential purpose.

It was more of another, covered living area than a throne room.

Her and Bun stood shoulder-to-shoulder as they waited. She could tell that Sir Meta Knight was hovering behind them, but she couldn't tell if she found it helpful or not. When the flap on the other side finally shifted, Fumu froze to keep herself from doing anything – just in case. Maybe not the best first impression, but it was better than any alternative, she told herself.

Tired seafoam green eyes immediately darted to the space behind her, maybe to Sir Meta Knight, before falling on her and finally drifting to her brother. They fully entered, the flap automatically snapping close behind them. Their body was a warm orange, and those eyes bored into them. They moved further in the tent and the bundle of rolled blue paper in their arms was laid upon the nearest table.

Fumu felt like she should have spoken but the moment seemed to pass as the too-familiar face glanced away with a flash of a pinched smirk, flashing tips of fangs, before taking a seat among the stacks of crates. They rested their cheek on their fist as they relaxed onto their mockery of a throne. Under the tiredness was a spark, but Fumu couldn't really tell what kind. Maybe it was mischief, or they weren't too happy to see them.

Bun eased forward. "You look like our friend Kirby," he said quietly.

Those piercing eyes shifted to Sir Meta Knight. "He's here?" a feminine voice asked.

"Sir Lancelot is watching him."

That spark dimmed as she sighed. A moment passed before her attention fell on the siblings again. "So, tell me the funniest story you know."

The tense silence returned for a beat before Bun's words stumbled out, saying, "Our papa shouldn't get drunk because his singing is horrible?" before he realized he had done it.

"_Bun~_" Fumu whispered in disbelief.

Morriphina quickly turned to the side, trying to stifle her snort, as Sir Meta Knight bit back a sigh.

* * *

A/N: … … So what have my players tried to do?

Two players cursed into nonhumoid forms. One is turned into a bear, the other a honey badger (because the will of the dice and table of animals).

The group is now walking in the woods to find the 'antidote' that is for some reason hoarded in a cave by crazy hermit that apparently breeds(?) slimes as personal pets. Find weird tree with weird fruit. Bear-guy eats one and I roll _hiiiiiigh_ for which event happens (which translate to severe for my table). He gets cursed _again_ and turned into a draft horse. Something happens and he smashes into tree again and eats more of the slightly-larger-than-grapes fruit. He has turned into a monstrosity: a draft horse with two horns, a bear's appetite, and purple polka dots spreading down from his mouth like hives.

The session ends with the other player returning to their humanoid form and regaining all their memories (but is completely lost) and goes off to do whatever they please while _the other never turns back and decides to go off and harass unicorns, eat weird stuff, and collect sparkly things. _Also, the other player (honey badger) may be plotting their revenge on bear-drafthorse-bicorn(?) creature for annoying everyone/trying to steal a lake.

Also-also, other player may have gained the power of necromancy, immediately tries to create undead army and fails, but does create some sort of living sentient bag from a leather satchel through use of a very questionable magical tome they found in a forest where the trees have books wedged into their trunks.

The bag familiar's name is Steven.

…

…

…

┐(´～｀)┌


	12. Quietener

Quietener

A/N:

Yup. I use OC's in prominent roles, and unless I'm writing **s-u-p-e-r c-r-a-c-k** (｀∇´ゞ), there are no self-inserts and (at least I try not to write) mary-gary sues.

… I still need practice on differentiating characters through how they speak… For now, speech seems to only be different really through how old you are. *shrugs*

* * *

Today was just one unexpected thing after another. Fumu didn't expect to be acting – _apparently only in title_ – as a representation of the kingdom to a group of settlers from off planet.

(She glanced back at the main tent as Sir Lancelot led her and Bun to another tent. Sir Meta Knight had stayed behind with Morriphina to continue whatever (true) talks that needed to be done. She and Bun had introduced themselves, but Sir Meta Knight had been the one doing most of the talking. Sure, by now she was getting that they weren't true representatives, but shouldn't they at least be present?)

She didn't expect to get to ride in a hovercraft (for hours).

She didn't expect to meet someone else of Kirby's species. (_I wonder if she has copy abilities._)

And she certainly didn't expect to glimpse another, similar small face before it ducked behind (yet) more crates in this new tent.

"Poy!" Kirby happily cried as the siblings entered but was reluctant to leave the center of his attention. When he finally did try to move to them, however, tensions in the room flared as a deep red 'kirby' snatched Kirby back behind the crates.

"Hey!" Bun shouted.

"Easy, little ones," Sir Lancelot quickly leaned in to stop the siblings from racing forward. His yellow eyes shifted to the crates. "Let him go, fledgling," he said, a tinge exasperated.

"But!"

"We talked about this. They're not strangers. They're not intruders. Treat them like part of the rookery."

"Errrm."

"Fledglings," Sir Lancelot motioned the 'kirby' closer.

In Red's arms, Kirby renewed his squirming. "Poy?" He reached up, babbling as he loosely patted at the arms holding him.

Red only eased out partway but it was enough for Fumu to tell they were physically bigger than Kirby. Not by much, not like Morriphina, but they were clearly older.

"If they are part of the rookery, why aren't they joining?" a disembodied voice asked from somewhere behind the crates. It hadn't been Red who was still eyeing them with heavy suspicion.

"They already have a home."

"Poy-poy!" Kirby's squirming had renewed, and this time with determination, and Red struggled to keep a hold on Kirby.

"They could join anyways," the voice said, which Sir Lancelot chuckled to.

"We'll see. …Are you all going to be this tense during the evening meal?" A beat passed with neither side budging. Sir Lancelot sighed, shaking his head. "This is going to be an interesting evening."

* * *

The suspicion in that glare from those bright orange eyes had soften but it was replaced by some inner turmoil that furrowed Red's brows. He looked anywhere but where she and Bun sat across from him at the tables.

Kirby sat wedged between Red and another light blue 'kirby'. Fumu was sure she had been the other voice as the third 'kirby', a near perfect mirror image of the other light blue one, had yet to even look at either of the siblings. Apparently the shyest of the three, they avoided even directly facing them.

Kirby didn't seem to mind being surrounded by strangers or even realize that they looked like him or whether that was unusual. Now that he realized that food was soon, Kirby's attention was on the large stove, not seeming too bothered by the strangers.

Only the sounds of cooking and the growing wind outside, punctuated by Kirby's occasional babbles, filled the tent… until Bun swung his legs over the bench to fully face Sir Lancelot at the stove.

"Are Sir Meta Knight and Morriphina still talking?"

"Likely." He took a moment to tap off the excess on the ladle back into the stew. "Sir Meta Knight was very worried about the Rookery settling on this planet. 'Though, Morriphina likely would have liked a duel if it came to that even if it was made only ceremonial."

"Duel?"

"… … … To … gain the right to settle," he finally said carefully. "That's … our people like to use duels to settle disputes. The laws surrounding duels have changed to be more lenient, but many still use them for such decisions."

"Yeah, Dedede probably won't like you guys being here," Bun said. "I could see him being a big baby about it. … Why doesn't Morriphina have a title like you and Sir Meta Knight? She's the leader, right? Shouldn't she have a title? Is she going to be your queen? … (Wait, Sir Meta Knight said homestead. Isn't that a farm?)," he muttered aloud.

"Hm." Kirby squeaked happily as Sir Lancelot finally ladled steaming stew into the first bowl. "She never aimed for the title of Dame as far as I know, and I doubt she would take the title of queen. Maybe governor if we did become that big." Several more bowls were filled. "I predict we won't be to the size where we need a queen for some time."

"_Sir Lancelot,"_ Red whined softly.

"It's alright, Arlen," Sir Lancelot set down the first two bowls to Fumu and Bun before drifting back to the stove. "Allies, little one." Red – Arlen – shied back into his seat. "Of course, by then," he started again, "we would likely need to find another habitable planet. One without sentient-sapient life. … I'm sure the others will file in when they are ready," Sir Lancelot said as he finally sat down after all seated had received a bowl. "I hope you all like reheated snake stew."

"Snake?!" both siblings cried and looked down at their stews. It looked normal enough.

"You guys took out the big snake?" Bun asked to which Sir Lancelot chuckled.

Brows furrowing, Fumu's expression dropped into a glare. _Why dispose of its head down south? They could have caused a panic!_ "Why…" Fumu started but stopped.

"Hm?" Sir Lancelot asked.

"We thought that some beast had moved south from the Wilds because of the snake."

"Hm… Morriphina was just trying to get his attention, but it seems Sir Meta Knight wasn't expecting it and … misread the … situation."

_Because leaving a severed snake head is a _completely _viable way to communicate. No one could misconstrue that,_ she thought sarcastically._ (If they all know each other, why didn't they just send a 'comm' like Sir Meta Knight and Sword were using to update Blade while they were gone?) _"…" Her eyes drifted down as her words faltered, her stomach growling for her attention.

_Well_, Fumu thought as she studied her stew, _it wasn't the most unusual thing to eat. _She picked up her spoon but stopped as Sir Lancelot cleared his throat. His yellow eyes meet briefly with each of the 'kirby' kids.

"Arlen, do you want to start?" Arlen eased down in his seat as the attention of the table focused on him. "Go on. Introduce yourself."

Arlen turned away but his eyes fell back on the two. "I'm Arlen."

"My name's Romilly!" the more forward of the two blues quickly added. They leaned against the shier blue 'kirby'. "This is Phona. She doesn't really talk." Phona's light magenta eyes, the only thing that differentiated her from her 'twin', finally came up to directly study them. There was a determination in those eyes in contrast to how shy she acted.

Excitedly, Kirby threw his arms up as he exclaimed, "Poy-bii!"

"He's Kirby," Fumu supplied, "… My name's Fumu."

"And I'm Bun!"

"There we go," Sir Lancelot almost sighed the words. "Go on. Eat." At that, Kirby immediately swallowed his entire bowl.

The _entire_ bowl.

"No, young one," but Sir Lancelot failed to grab it before it disappeared completely into Kirby's mouth.

"Don't worry," Bun said passively between slurps of stew, "he'll spit it out in a moment."

Sure enough, the saliva-covered bowl slowly emerged and _plunked!_ onto the table.

"Plee-plee!"

* * *

It wasn't Sir Meta Knight or Morriphina who came to supper next. Instead it was yet another 'kirby'. They stood at the doorway studying the scene before them, their silvery lavender skin damp as if they had been dripping wet ten minutes earlier (… but it wasn't raining…). They drifted over, laid down a set of goggles on the table, and rested their forehead against the metal with a heavy sigh.

"Arlen. Go get a bowl for Allyria."

"Yes, sir." Arlen jumped off and toddled over to the stove before coming back to scoot a bowl across the table to Allyria.

"Thank you, little one," she said as her hand came up to push the bowl closer to her.

"I will be back in a moment," Sir Lancelot said as he saw the opportunity. He leaned down partway to her. "Please try to keep the peace here.

"I need to see if I need to do the same elsewhere," he added quietly.

Allyria nodded, and Sir Lancelot quickly slipped out.

…

"Have you lived on this planet your whole life?"

…

Fumu almost wasn't sure she had heard the question, but she turned to Arlen and he was clearly waiting for a response. "Yeah."

"We've been here our whole lives, except Kirby," Bun added. "He crashlanded in his ship a while back."

Arlen brought his bowl up to drink from it, but his narrowed eyes still studied them with no small amount of confusion and worry.

"Have you ever seen the weird four-legged bouncing animal?" Romilly pointed to her own butt. "It has a fluffy tail. Sir Meta Knight said we can eat them if needed but that they weren't a threat."

"A rabbit?" Bun supplied. _Wait, um_, "How big is it?"

"As high as three of me stacked together!" she said excitedly.

"Oh. Maybe it's a deer." _Unless the rabbits are huge like the snakes out here..._ His attention drifted to Allyria who still had her head on the table. Was she asleep? She hadn't even got in a spoonful yet.

"So, what can you guys do?" Romilly continued.

"Um," Fumu glanced at her brother who briefly met her gaze and wondered if he wondered what she did.

"… My sister can write really well," he said, though, before she could ask.

Confusion flittered across Romilly's face, but she continued down the offered line anyways. "Do you like writing stories?"

"I mostly journal about events that happen around the kingdom. … Ever since Kirby came, all sorts of stuff have happened." _Like this._ Her eyes kept falling on the flaps on either side of the tent. "Do you think something's wrong?" she asked softly. Bun shrugged.

"They may be arguing again," Arlen said.

"What about?"

"I don't know~" Arlen swirled his stew with his spoon nervously. "Sir Lancelot said that Sir Meta Knight said that he didn't have a claim on the area, so I don't know," he replied, his features pinched.

* * *

A/N: I'm trying to remember that weird word in English that means something like 'pleasant chatting during dinner'. All in one word.

Also this emoticon is scary~ (⊙ᗜ⊙)


	13. Monsters & Kings (Saviors & Aberrations)

Monsters and Kings (Saviors and Aberrations)

Lucky Thirteen (ゝ◡╹)ノ ✧

A/N: I wished that FF had a comment section 'cause I feel like I'm inflating the review count when I try to be friendly back. There are these A/N but it's limited in amount of replies.

MintyFresh – Allyria feels your pain~ but doesn't have the luxury of time to read yet. :C

Yes sure is – (*´∀｀*)

WyldstileTH – A good portion of my problems is that I have allowed myself to become my own worst enemy over the years. I like writing probably to a fault and I use fanfiction as part of me practicing b/c I have the notion knocking around in my head to publish my own stuff but opportunity costs being hung over my head and me internalizing negative crap has produced issues that I need to break apart. Just getting myself to write and forcing myself to edit some and actually post these have helped tremendously. (Plus people saying they like it. (*´∀｀*) )

Guest von Second "hufufjosisjdnxn" – (*´∀｀*)

Guest von Third "intrigued" – (*´∀｀*) Yeah, this story has become me mostly practicing little twists in plot and info drips.

Also, aberration is one fun word.

* * *

It was much colder out here this far north, and Fumu shivered as she burrowed into her freezing sleeping bag. Once fully in, she quickly rubbed her legs and arms together in an effort to relieve the cold. (This just added another reason why she wished Kirby was sleeping with them tonight. Soft and pliable, he was like a giant, warm marshmallow pillow, but she guessed it was good that he was bonding with older kids who _may have powers like him_ but … … … they were so scared of her and Bun…)

Silence was just settling in the tent when Fumu recognized the sound of the tent flap opening. She peeped over, the light filtering in just strong enough for her to tell it wasn't Sir Meta Knight lingering by the opening.

"Hello, young ones." The flap of this tent, too, clicked closed by itself as Sir Lancelot entered fully with a soft chuckle. "See? Today wasn't so bad. You two did great."

_Bad? _Fumu hid her scowl. They hadn't really done anything_._

"How did it go with the other children after I left?" he continued.

"Alright, I guess," Fumu said.

"Was that really all we had to do?" Bun asked from where he laid in his own cot and sleeping bag.

"Well," Sir Lancelot waved loosely at the air, "no, but Morriphina isn't one to antagonize children." A beat passed. "Just having faces to associate with your people, though, will help things go smoother."

Fumu rolled over to face the knight fully. "Was she and Allyria in the G.S.A. with you and Sir Meta Knight?"

"Morriphina was off and on. Whenever the G.S.A. was about to give Nightmare a blow, she was there, but sometimes she didn't mesh well with King Arthur's Courts, and Allyria – she isn't really a fighter. She can fight when needed but she's primarily an engineer."

"King Arthur?" Fumu asked when a pause came.

"…" Sir Lancelot studied her. "Meta hasn't told you two much of the history, huh?" he spoke softly. "Hmm," he said and sighed as they both shook their heads. A longer silence steeped as his eyes closed in thought.

"Are you not allowed to talk about him?" Bun asked.

His eyes finally opened again at that. "… I'm just putting a few more pieces into place."

"Huh?"

"How about this? You answer some of my questions and I'll answer what I can of yours."

Fumu nodded as Bun eagerly inch-wormed closer.

"How would you two describe Sir Meta Knight?"

Fumu's gaze narrowed. "Annoying."

"Kinda weird – in a stern way."

He chuckled. "I need a little more elaboration than that."

"He never gives a straight answer – _never_ – and he lets Kirby get in over his head before he gets involved- I mean... Kirby has learned a lot but it's dangerous!"

"Yeah, and right now it's kind of strange he's the one getting us involved. If it's something dealing with his past, it usually shoots at us first, you know what I mean?"

"… … … How has he been doing?"

The silence that settled over them was finally broken as Bun quietly supplied: "He walked around during the Fall Festival?" Although, he admitted to himself, he wasn't sure how helpful that was.

"We don't know what he does most of the time," Fumu added.

"Besides apparently build bomb shelters." Bun laughed at his own remark.

"He built more than one? For a village your size?"

"We know of one," Fumu said. She shrugged loosely. "There could be more."

"Hm… …" Sir Lancelot looked away, his closed eyes turning up unseeingly to the stars hidden from them. "King Arthur is exalted as the savior of our people, and to all but a few, he is. He was the main head that orchestrated the Reforms to free us from nigh-perpetual fighting."

"Who were you fighting?" Fumu asked.

"Anyone and anything we were ordered to by our then king, or whenever fighting was deemed necessary. This included each other. Fights for rights to resources and services. Fights to elevate your position."

"That's horrible."

"… Yes. It is. … King Arthur had this grand vision of peace and freedom. Most scoffed at it aloud, but, secretly, I believed the people craved it."

Bun eased up awkwardly with his sleeping bag still snuggled around him. "Did he succeed?"

"… …" Sir Lancelot's head dipped lower.

"What happened?" Fumu asked this time.

"King Arthur freed us from the old king's rule, he tried to free us from corrupted traditions, but he could not unite our people. Most fled to the stars with their newfound freedom while King Arthur's more loyal forces stayed and merged with various groups to create the G.S.A., created to strive to bring peace to the galaxy.

"Morriphina can be rough in her manners, but I am absolutely sure she craved at least some measure of peace as well. I like to think that is what she is trying to accomplish here. Those fledglings need a home, and half-forgotten in roving, beaten-up, and decrepit old warships does not equal one. … She will carve one out of the freezing indifference of space by will and stubbornness alone if she has to."

"… Is she trying to get Sir Meta Knight and Kirby to join her, ah, homestead?" Fumu asked.

"Well," Sir Lancelot leaned against the tent post gingerly, "it's not like such a thing has to be a big deal. Once relations are established, we can set up trade and a proper travel route. Ideally people may come and go as they please – within reason."

Worry was swelling up again in Fumu's gut. "Pupupuland is Kirby's home."

"And that's fine. If everything works out, your friend Kirby doesn't have to stay only at one or the other. One day," he added, "when Nightmare's influence on this planet has been severed."

* * *

He was all too aware of the sadness swelling up in his heart. Loosely he wondered if this was the 'plague' the older warriors had talked about when he was a fledgling: a devouring, tired numbness that swallowed all things. Emotion. Drive. The will to keep fighting for what you had already gained.

(No. Not the last one. It still glowed strong within him.)

Sir Meta Knight slipped into the smaller tent quietly and took a spot next to where Morriphina sat. He knew she noticed him, but her eyes remained fixed on the papers her elbows flattened out. Both of them stayed there in their respective positions for a while. Sir Meta Knight rather enjoyed the relative quiet despite the invisible line of tension that still connected them. They were both tired, and both of them knew that, so both seemed to separately agree to let things ease down for the moment.

"You refuse to handle it, yet you won't allow me to either." The words were soft and tired, not harsh despite their wording.

"… We all need sleep. Sir Lancelot and I will take first watch so go rest for now." When no reply came, Sir Meta Knight eased off but was stopped as a hand grabbed his arm.

"But it would be _so easy_~" Morriphina turned up to Sir Meta Knight. "Wouldn't it, Meta?"

"…"

"Do you not wish for that man-child to be gone?" Her eyes bored into his. "He is weak. Weak in mind… in will… in governance…"

"The kingdom is theirs. … They have much to learn, but it is theirs, and they must learn for themselves. They must make the decision, or it will not be lasting."

"… … Hmph." Morriphina finally turned away. She leaned heavily against the table but ignored the papers still upon its surface.

"May the stars guide you when the sun's light cannot reach you, Morri," he said softly.

She didn't look up. "Hmm."

"… We can try again tomorrow. … Good night, Morri."

* * *

"Hey, Fumu. You still awake?" Bun whispered.

Drifting, yes, but she hadn't quite fallen asleep yet. "Yeah."

"Do you think Sir Meta Knight's a 'kirby'?"

Her brows furrowed, but she still laughed at the wording. "Pfft!" but that sour feeling of annoyance was gurgling up again. "I wouldn't be surprised, though," she whispered back.

"Do you think he has copy abilities?"

"Don't know."

"… Hey, Fumu."

"Yeah?"

"_Sir Meta Knight with __**wiiiiiiings**_. … Well, maybe."

"… _God damn it,"_ she whispered harshly as realization of what Sir Meta Knight being a 'kirby' implied fell heavier on her.

"Heh heh, you cussed."

* * *

A/N: And all wonder to this day whether Allyria is still passed out at the table.

A/N: Sort of but ultimately not really spoiler because I think I implied it clearly enough…

.

.

.

I am not joking when I say Morriphina would straight up defenestrate Dedede in both senses of the word.

(╯‵□′)╯︵ ┴─┴

(ﾟoﾟ(○=(-_-○)


	14. Doodles & Swirls & Hearts

...

* * *

Doodles & Swirls & Hearts

* * *

The process of getting up, getting dressed, and sitting down for breakfast was somehow both a haphazard and organized affair done halfway still in sleep despite the chill of the air. Before Fumu knew it, she was sitting down in the same spot with another bowl of reheated snake stew steaming before her. With the stove going, this may have been the warmest area in camp, even more so than her sleeping bag.

Her eyes moved from person to person, studying the group gathered around the table, and saw no new faces and Allyria missing. "Is anyone else coming – besides Allyria?" she asked.

"No," Morriphina replied. That tiredness etched into her face yesterday had eased some, but her brows were still tightly stitched together, and her gaze perpetually fixated on her cup. "We're small for now but that is fine. It's best to get established first." She took a sip, her eyes never even glancing up to those around the table. "Winter is coming, and we need to maximize the food stores."

Fumu turned to Sir Meta Knight. "Is that what was in the crate?"

"Partially."

"Will others be coming – to the homestead, I mean?" she furthered.

Morriphina still just stared into her cup. "Maybe, but they will have to prove themselves to me first."

Something in Fumu wanted her to note that. … Maybe it was like what Sir Lancelot had told them last night. The fighting… "… Where _is_ Allyria?"

"Sleeping off an early morning," Sir Lancelot replied.

Fumu's gaze fell on Arlen who was again seated across from her, busy eating hungrily. The stray thought to ask about all of their parents flittered by but Fumu surmised that she essentially already had some idea of that answer. … It would be cruel to bring it up.

Maybe instead, though, the kids of Kirby's kind didn't need as much help from adults (… but that wouldn't mean their parents wouldn't want to be here with them). Her attention drifted back down to her stew for a moment, her heart growing heavy, before Bun bumped into her as he shifted and broke her from her thoughts.

"Sooooo~" Bun broke in as he laid down his spoon for the moment and dramatically and _slowly_ turned to Sir Meta Knight.

"… Yes, Bun?"

A smile gradually spread across his face. "You're a 'kirby', too, aren't you?"

Yellow eyes finally shifted to Bun. "That is a strange way to put it."

"And how are you supposed to eat soup with your mask on? Can't exactly, you know, slip it under like you do."

"…"

The tension partial broke as Sir Lancelot spoke, "Let the kid have his moment, Meta."

Sir Meta Knight sighed in posture as he reached back to loosen the strap. The freed mask was laid in one of the few free spots on the crowded tables, and Sir Meta Knight gave Bun an exasperated look as the boy silently had a conniption, rocking in his seat as his smile somehow grew bigger.

Fumu's glare narrowed at the knight as her spoon stilled en route. Sure enough he was a 'kirby'. Two deep scars by his right eye – one above and another one below that ran far down his cheek – drew your attention first, but change dark blue to pink, and palest yellow to deep blue, he looked like Kirby.

"Poy!" Kirby babbled. A small arm waved towards Sir Meta Knight like he was trying to reach for him, but then his attention fell on the closer mask. He reached for it, forcing Sir Meta Knight to take it back before he could grab it. Instead, Sir Meta Knight leaned it against the bench behind him.

"Pooy~" Kirby whined. "Me! Mine!"

"No, Kirby," Sir Meta Knight said.

"When you're older you may earn one yourself," Sir Lancelot added.

"Puuu," Kirby leaned back into his seat, his hand finding its way into his mouth. "Hmm."

"Besides writing, what can you two do?" Romilly asked as the conversation lulled.

"I can walk on my hands!" Bun said proudly.

That confusion from before was back. "I mean," she glanced at Morriphina and Sir Lancelot. When they didn't interfere, she continued, "what can you _do_? … If you're sort-of-joining, you must be able to do something. Otherwise you wouldn't need to."

"They have a home, Romilly," Sir Lancelot repeated. "They are just here helping."

"So, they can't do stuff?" Arlen asked.

"Oh!" Fumu perked up. "So you _are_ talking about copy abilities!" Her gaze fell on a preoccupied Kirby busily teething on the rim of his empty bowl. "We can't do the amazing things like Kirby can. … Can you?"

Romilly leaned back, her eyes darting towards Morriphina.

It was then that Fumu realized that those blue-green eyes were studying her with suspicious. She didn't understand how such a pressure could be felt from a person. It was like the space around her was actually charging, like any moment lightning would spark without a source.

"Fumu." Sir Meta Knight's passive voice startled her. "Remember how I told you that Kirby was special?"

Smiling at the attention, Kirby threw his arms up happily, the now-forgotten bowl wobbling on the table. "Poy!"

"Yeah."

"Kirby's abilities are unusual," he explained to the siblings. "Abilities vary greatly but I have yet to hear of another ability so … intricate."

"So, does that mean you can do stuff, too, Sir Meta Knight?" Bun asked before quickly stifling his laugh. He had looked up after finishing his bowl to ask the question and looking at the now maskless knight remained Bun far too much of Kirby.

"… I have my tricks."

"Can we see?"

"But," Arlen started quietly but stopped as Sir Lancelot placed a hand on his shoulder.

"No," and Sir Meta Knight smirked, actually smirked, and Bun wonder if he was imagining it even though he was staring right at the knight (and then he wondered just how often Sir Meta Knight could have been … _smirking_ at them like a … _what_ever – a jerk or cat or something. Bun couldn't think of the words at the moment).

"Why not?" Bun asked.

"It's my choice who I show. If I don't want to, I don't have to." He gave the three 'kirby' kids a look.

"Well…" Bun almost pouted, "can you show us sometime?"

"Someday." He turned back to his food. "Likely sooner rather than later," he added quietly.

"O…kay." Bun leaned over to Fumu. "Do you think it's like the sword beam?"

She shrugged, glancing to Sir Meta Knight. (They _were_ talking about him right by him.) He didn't seem bothered, though, his attention seemingly, solely back on his own stew.

* * *

There was a sort of lull after breakfast. The children had helped clean up but had been left to wander by the unlit firepit. The adults, save Allyria, had gathered outside the camp's boundary but within view, or should Fumu say, that they, the kids, were within view.

Fumu stared back as Sir Meta Knight glanced to them, their eyes meeting briefly. She was old enough to be included in discussions. When she glanced back at the other kids, though, she wondered if she was supposed to help babysit.

… Yes, that was important, too, but they still were supposed to be 'representatives' here.

"That's definitely a deer," Bun said as he crouched down next to the drawing in the dirt. "Here, this is a rabbit. People eat them sometimes, too."

"Aw~ it's cute," she said and immediately tried drawing her own with her own stick.

(Fumu glanced over at Phona stab-digging swirls into the dirt.)

"People also keep them for pets."

Romilly blinked at Bun. "Your people don't eat their pets, do they?"

"Nah~"

"I'm back!" Arlen shouted as he trotted over. "I found the perfect stick!"

"Come draw rabbits with us!"

"Okay!"

"Poy-poy!"

"Keep off where we're drawing, Kirby!"

Fumu glanced back one last time at the cluster of adults and eyed the tentative hand Sir Meta Knight eased towards Morriphina.

Despite her back turned to Fumu, she could tell that Morriphina had come to rest her hung head in her palm.

* * *

A/N: Doodles & Swirls & (Rueful) Hearts


	15. Lessons & Dappled Light

A/N: I'm laaaate but I blame wasps. … I just blame wasps.

Multiple of them.

…

In my room.

…

I would swell up like an elephant.

…

(ｏ´_｀ｏ)

* * *

While Allyria was busy grabbing something, the children congregated on the thick blanket she had rolled out onto the ground. Apparently the 'kirby' kids were slated for a lesson this morning and Bun and Fumu had been added to the number. Fumu was curious on what the subject would be, but …

She rested on Kirby's soft form as her thoughts churned, their swirling only slowing to a pause when Sir Meta Knight neared.

"Come, Kirby. It's time to practice."

"Poy!" Kirby jumped to his feet with glee.

"Sir Meta Knight?" Fumu slipped in. "Can I ask you something – privately?"

"… Alright," he placed a stilling hand on a Kirby's bouncing head, "stay with the other children for now, Kirby."

"…? Poy!" Happily, Kirby rolled back onto the blanket and sighed in sudden contentment.

* * *

They didn't go far, but Fumu suspected that was best in a place where the snakes could literally eat two whole cappies at once.

"I assume you have more than one question," he finally said as he turned back to her.

"Yeah, but…" her gaze shifted back up to him from the ground, "you said you didn't know Kirby's home star."

"I told you the truth."

Fumu's features furrowed, more pieces of a troubled story snapping onto the puzzle.

"Any history of a home planet has been lost. I don't know where our kind originated from."

"I'm sorry," she whispered.

He nodded, not really sure what else to do. "… I know you and Bun are in a strange situation, but right now you need to focus on creating the future." Fumu followed his gaze as it lifted up to the children back at the blanket. "Everyone here is trying to build something, to kindle something." His eyes fell back on Fumu. "Is there anything you wish to create?"

"…" She looked back to the blanket again. Bun was squishing his cheeks together as he blew raspberries at a laughing Kirby teetering on his back like a flipped turtle. Romilly and Arlen was laughing at them while Phona's face was pinched and turned away, her hands over her mouth like she was trying to keep any laughs from spilling. "Maybe?" she said, distracted, a brow lifting minutely.

"Then go on. Forge it the best you can."

* * *

The way through the tall pines was quiet as the sounds of the children clustered in the middle of camp with Allyria faded quickly as the three walked deeper into the forest. The clearing they stepped into was small, and the branches of the trees above them naturally seem to layer together to filter the sunlight and give a sense of seclusion to those underneath.

When Morriphina finally stopped and turned around to Sir Meta Knight and fledgling, that confused but curious little face was staring up at her and she winced before she could stop herself.

"Poy?"

Sir Meta Knight leaned down to the fledgling. "Kirby, Morriphina is going to feel your energy." He knew that Kirby would likely not understand fully, yet the boy did allow her to lay a tentative hand on his head.

Sir Meta Knight studied every twitch in her face as he waited. Brows knitted together above her pinched eyes as she concentrated. Maybe a whole minute had passed before she slipped her hand away as a scowl began to overtake her determined expression. "…"

"_Hmm_…" she turned back to the direction of the camp with a grumbling sigh but paused before she gone far. "Don't be late to the midday meal," she said as she again moved back into the brush, and the heavy silence returned as Sir Meta Knight and Kirby watched her go.

Sir Meta Knight looked down as he felt the tug on his cape.

Kirby stared up at him with clear confusion, but the fledgling smiled as Sir Meta Knight laid a thoughtful hand on his head.

* * *

Back at the campsite, Allyria clicked the last marker closed with a satisfied look. "And I want these questions done by the midday meal tomorrow."

Her words were mostly met with groans.

She eyed the cluster of little ones akimbo, marker still in hand which she flicked with a huff. "Don't give me that, fledglings. None of you have the luxury of being oblivious to the physics when your dead in space because you can't fix your own power systems." She dismissed them, adding, "Romilly. Don't help the others until after the morning meal tomorrow."

"Yes, Ms. Allyria."

"What are we going to do now?" Bun asked as he and his sister found themselves alone on the blanket as the others dispersed.

"You may try the questions as well," she didn't hesitate in replying. "However," she said, noting Bun's apprehension, "if that's not to your liking, there's plenty that needs to be done. You can help setup the new seedlings for the hydroponics or preserve rations. There's foraging, but if chosen, I suggest you wait for one of the adults so they can go with you two."

"… What's hydroponics?"

"Um… simply put: the cultivation of plants without soil, and potentially also with artificial sunlight."

"You can do that?"

"Yes, if you have access to the equipment, or at least parts.

"You can cobble together a simple system in a pinch, but the results would not be optimum without controlling the nutrient levels of the growing medium. Winter is coming, and the region will only support limited farming – if any – 'til spring. Hydroponics will allow us to effectively use those otherwise unproductive weeks as well as create the beginnings of a partially portable food system.

"It's a staple process for long-term starship inhabitation," she tagged on as she turned back to them.

"… Okay…" he turned to Fumu, "I'm good with anything as long as it's not more homework I have to do on top of what I already have back home."

"… Hydroponics sounds interesting."

With a smirk, Allyria turned back to the whiteboard leaning against a tree behind her and immediately began sketching something out. "Then I'll give you a more in-depth albeit still quick overview and then you two can help me unpack the equipment."

Bun stifled his groan.

* * *

The day seemed to slip away quickly, and Fumu found herself longing for her bed.

Her _true_ bed. (Things always seemed to be keeping her from it lately.)

((_When was the last time I had slept in it for longer than a couple days?_))

The air was cooling quickly as the sun's rays became more thinned by the forest as it dipped lower in the sky. The dishes were clean, so at least they were free to do as they pleased for the moment.

Her and the other kids stayed near the stove after cleaning up the evening meal to stave off the growing chill. Its embers were already fading, and she could tell that everyone was tired. She hoped that the tasks for today were finally finished as even her sleeping bag would feel wonderful to burrow into.

"Okay," the children's collective attention shifted up to Sir Lancelot as he neared, "who's ready for a treat?"

"Is it something sweet?" Arlen asked excitedly.

"Nooo."

"Aw~"

"Come along," Sir Lancelot gestured for them all to follow, "I'm sure you will all enjoy it." He glanced at Fumu and Bun. "You two will need to bring your packs."


	16. Old Bedtime Stories

A/N: Note to future me: 'kirby' likely should be "kirby". Check and fix when u have time.

A/N: Hello to folks who read this!

A/N: Bigger chapter/combined two because why not.

* * *

Old Bedtime Stories

* * *

The area they entered into, filled with warm hazy steam, was dug out into the thick stone of the mountain side, down a similarly dug tunnel. Fumu had been confused at first when Sir Lancelot had somehow disappeared into the bushes hugging the base of a nearby cliff face, but now she joined the other children in gaping at the sight before them.

"You have baths!" Bun exclaimed.

"Yup," Sir Lancelot said as he slipped his mask off. "Allyria finished the heating element this morning." He eyed the children with a smirk. "So, _thank_ her."

"We will!"

"YEA!" Romilly yelled as she broke from the group and cannonballed into the water, splashing Allyria as she soaked in the conjoining bath – or maybe she was dozing as Allyria didn't seem bothered as the wave washed over her. Fumu wasn't even sure she flinched.

"There's an area over there if you two need to change into something more suitable," Sir Lancelot said, pointing to another tunnel opening to the right of the baths. "I don't … some cultures are particular about their clothes."

Bun jumped in joy. "I'm next!" he said and dashed forward. He slowed as he traversed where the water pooled on the textured stone from Romilly's cannonball, but once he reached the edge, he held out his arms and purposely faceplanted into the steaming water.

"Alright... Nevermind," Sir Lancelot said thoughtfully as he moved over to the bath where Allyria rested and laid his weapons near its edge.

Arlen skidded to a halt and looked back at Fumu. "Are you coming?"

"Yeah," she said as she grabbed her pack from the floor, "I just need a moment." She looked back and eased Kirby forward with a hand. "Go on. I'll be back in a moment."

"… Poy!"

* * *

"Even though there is so much liquid water on this planet, this feels sinfully luxurious," Allyria said. She dipped down farther into the water, keeping only her face unsubmerged.

Sir Lancelot's answer was a sigh in agreement, but he grimaced slightly as another wave of water splashed over them both. "Perhaps, though, the adults should have gone first," he said, to which Allyria chuckled.

"And _then_, Sir Lancelot's axe come down and – _slit_!" Arlen's arms came down dramatically which caused another wave of water to splash up.

"Poy!" Kirby said, mimicking the older boy and causing his own wave.

"And the collector was sliced in two! It was so tall that one of the halves fell across two ridges!"

Bun eased up so his mouth was above the waterline again. "Those things sound freaky."

"They are," Romilly said. "One nearly got Phona before but…" she looked over at her 'twin', "it exploded before it could get to its ship."

Fumu glanced at Phona who had looked up from messing with a leaf that had somehow found its way into the bath at her name. The blue 'kirby' didn't seem as passive now that Fumu had been around her, but Fumu wasn't sure she had ever talked. The apprehension in Phona's eyes had disappeared as well but she was still giving her and Bun a … perhaps "knowing" look now and again. She couldn't really place it…

and there was sort of a smirk on her face now.

"Hey, Romilly?" Bun started.

"Yes?"

"Do only ladies get the cool tattoo on their backs, or is that a marking? There's an animal called a cat and some of them don't get their markings months after they're born. Is-"

(The color of Arlen's cheeks paled.)

"That's kind of weird, Bun," Romilly said, her hands coming up to cover her face as if bracing or shying away.

"What? How?" He blushed as a default, unsure of how to read her reaction. "I didn't know it was weird~" he grimaced down into the water.

Fumu tried to speak up in her brother's defense but Sir Lancelot eased over first, the sudden quiet from the children grabbing his attention. "Is something wrong?" he asked. The silence returned for the moment. "Come now. What's wrong?"

"We didn't know it was rude to ask about the, um, markings?" Fumu replied.

"… Oh." Sir Lancelot seemed to settle despite his quiet. "They didn't mean anything," he said to the 'kirby' kids. "… I have an idea. Why don't you play Round Tag? That's a fun game, isn't it?"

"Yeah," Romilly said tentatively.

Allyria drifted up to a shallower step, taking the chance that the quiet gave, and leaned toward Sir Lancelot. "If they are going to play Round Tag, bring the nestling over here," she quietly told him.

"Alright."

A small, confused peep came from Kirby as he was lifted over the threshold between the baths and Fumu had to keep herself from protesting.

Kirby blinked up at Allyria as she maneuvered him to rest against her front. His confusion, though, bled away as Allyria's hands worked down one of his wings, slowly straightening the downy mess. Blissful, he relaxed against her, idly chewing on one hand and drifting to the gentle pulsing of her energy.

As Kirby settled, so did Fumu and she rested against the side of the bath and smiled at the scene.

"So," Sir Lancelot said, "who wants to be in the first round?"

* * *

He wrapped his cape around himself a little tighter as he moved through the cold pitch. The energy he sought out was just ahead, but he paused when he came to the treeline and let the hushed world of the still night engulf him.

Sir Meta Knight reopened his eyes just as his breath puffed into the air again. His vision cleared and he found that Morriphina had still not moved from where she stared up at the stars in the middle of the clearing.

A thick blanket around her form…

her turned-away face lit by the waning moon's light…

what he could see of her expression unreadable… and she still didn't move as he neared.

"Checking to see I haven't committed regicide yet?"

"Do I need to?" He kept his voice passive. "…"

"… … That king should name a holiday after you." There was a pause before her expression shifted into a distressed, pinched smirk and she scoffed.

"I doubt he would." _Relative peace will have to be my reward._

"… The boy or the girl?" she asked abruptly, but Sir Meta Knight immediately knew what she meant.

"Both? … Both have potential, but Bun is too young to properly gauge whether he has the disposition, and Fumu is showing signs of elevated anxiety. She will likely need training to control it."

"She is at a troubling age." Morriphina finally turned to Sir Meta Knight, even if briefly. "You start realizing how _shit_ some things are."

He conceded first. "I don't mean to be cruel with their presence here."

"Stop being apologetic," she muttered into the blanket.

She was still being passive, but he couldn't tell if it was a mask or not at the moment. "I'm only being so because it's clear that a few things have hurt you. … I will stand with you with your decision to create a rookery – or whatever name is decided – and to … take things back but the duty entrusted to me was to bring peace … and rookeries need peace to thrive … and peace may still be able to be achieved here without spilt blood."

"…"

"…"

"_That 'king' is a threat to the rookery_."

"I know … but this planet already has Nightmare's attention, even if only a sliver of it. We don't want him to send demon beasts looking for answers when suddenly Dedede stops buying," he added. "With the war waned, he would notice."

She sighed in defeat before her features squeezed together in grief. "I'm _sick _of _scavenging _in the shadows!" she said, her voice beginning to rise.

"I know..." the anger wasn't directed at him, he knew, but this still was too close to another argument, "but they might yet be our freedom."

Her expression didn't relax, and she turned away from him, her fists clenching the ends of the blanket tighter. "…"

"… Come in from the cold, Morri."

"I'm fine." She sighed deeply. "… You were right, though." Her face turned up again to the sea of stars above. "It is beautiful here."

"… Yes… it is."

* * *

Fumu startled awake and was to her feet before she even opened her eyes. By the time she was out of her sleeping bag and at the flap of her and Bun's tent, fumbling with the zipper to peek outside, she realized it was the sound of flapping wings that had woken her.

It was nigh blackness outside the tent as the moon's pale light barely reached through the trees to the ground, but a familiar form moved in the darkness. A cluster of forms converged on the spot and Fumu could tell Sir Lancelot's mask from Sir Meta Knight's by how it glinted with color in the dimness. In the steeping darkness, they spoke in hushed words by the cold firepit in the middle of the camp.

… Fumu wondered if they just asked Sir Meta Knight maybe he would show them his wings.

She flinched as pale eyes in the darkness fell on the tent. The urge to jump back into her sleeping bag and pretend to be asleep flared up but she tempered it, even as the form moving closer strengthened the feeling.

Fumu covered and rubbed at her eyes as the lantern by the tent's flap was clicked on and too-bright light flooded the inside of the tent.

"… Sir Lancelot said you two had some trouble communicating today with the other children," Sir Meta Knight said as he slipped in.

"We didn't know it was rude to ask about the, uh, markings." She glanced over at Bun, but she was pretty sure he was fast asleep.

"I see."

"It's impolite?" (How _was it impolite?_)

"…" Sir Meta Knight drifted further into the tent. There wasn't really a place to sit down so he sat down next to a snoozing Kirby on Fumu's cot and patted the small amount of free area remaining.

She eased up onto it and waited as Sir Meta Knight took his time.

"Sir Lancelot told me that he had told you two about King Arthur," he finally said.

"Yeah."

"And the fighting."

"He mentioned it."

Sir Meta Knight glanced over at the sleeping Bun, and the silence stood for another good long while.

"… Our society suffered from the machinations of madmen," Sir Meta Knight begin, his voice near a sullen whisper, "not unlike how Nightmare's company has King Dedede's ear. Very much so like it."

"…?" Fumu looked up at him with an expression that tweaked confusion before falling into a scowl. "Nightmare and his jerks caused trouble?"

He nodded. "Poor decisions influenced by ill-will is poison. The collapse of stability and rescinding of freedom go hand and hand." He leaned forward in a slouch. "Men were primarily soldiers which in such an environment meant their life expectancy was low." There was a pause as Sir Meta Knight gingerly placed a hand on Kirby's back before continuing. "The women were left in a strange position. They grouped together into rookeries to protect each other and their nestlings in a mirror of the battalions and troops created by the men, but … even this was almost corrupted. It was only due to powerful Matrons – rookery leaders – that the situation didn't devolve further." His eyes smoldered red as a grimace contorted his features under his mask. "That monster wanted our people as segmented as possible."

"The markings?" Fumu asked.

"First, Fumu, know that your brother may need to be a bit older for such a topic. He is getting old enough to maturely handles such things, but he may need more time."

She nodded hesitantly but nodded. "… What do they mean?"

"They are identifiers. They would receive their first set hours after birth and these would be added to as they moved up in rank within the rookery or accomplished great deeds. Although, since the Reforms, most who bears them has since tattooed over the original mark to make them unscannable, but they marked you for your rookery, your status..." his words trailed off thoughtfully. "That tattoo controlled their lives.

"Tattooing to represent great deeds and decoration still exist but most shun its use for identification. There are a few rookeries – old, having risen to power before King Arthur outlawed the practice – that yet use it."

"But boys don't have them?"

"We weren't expected to live long. Only the strongest were to survive for any meaningful length of time."

"Romilly and Phona don't have them."

"They were born to members of the G.S.A. long after the beginning of the, hm… coup," he spoke that last word softly.

"… You don't think Pupupuland could turn into something like that, do you? Because of Nightmare?"

"Hm, your kingdom doesn't have the same stressors that ours did, and Nightmare is largely uninterested in it… and King Dedede doesn't have a strong hold on your people.

"I say your people have a much higher chance of survival," he added somberly.

"… … Our papa is worried that you're a corrupting influence or something," she interjected.

"_Oh?"_

"He thinks you (and Sword and Blade) have seen too much war… or _some_thing." She gave a small shrug.

"… Is that what you think?"

"I think you've seen a lot of pain…" She glanced at his gloved hands but not up to the scars hidden by his mask. "I think I partially understand why you're so 'annoying'."

He gave a sharp, dry laugh. "Annoying, you say?"

"Yeah… This is why you didn't want them to leave." Her eyes finally looked up again. "You want to help your family."

Sir Meta Knight visibly froze.

"Arlen said you all were family. (He also used the term 'rookery'.) He said you all are part of the same rookery."

"…"

"Does war really make people so scared that they hide everything, even their own families from others who mean them no harm?"

"… …"

"Sir Meta Knight?"

"It very much can. Fumu."

"Yeah?"

"It isn't King Dedede that we're worried about knowing about this place. Nightmare wouldn't care about a lone, wandering warrior like me or a nestling who's barely fledged, but he very much would be interested in this place. He swore to destroy anything our people try to build due to our involvement in the resistance against him. He would bring suffering."

"If the villagers know, then King Dedede knows…"

"And then Nightmare knows," he finished her sentence.

Her glare returned. "Then why did you even tell us?" Her voice was rising.

"Our people call it Threnody's Plague."

Her features scrunched in confusion. "Huh?"

"Even the strongest of will, will one day lay down their arms when they wary of fighting. There are two types of 'peace' they may be met with when they do. The strongest may be able to retire in a rookery but almost always they are met by the specter of ****: a violent death."

Fumu blinked, not understanding the word that was more of a sullenly warbled note than spoken word.

"… It would be nice to have peace for once that isn't some semblance." He turned to Fumu. "I hope our two peoples can share it."

"Your rookery is pretty small. Maybe after King Dedede grows up, your rookery can come live in the village? Maybe in the meadow by Kirby's house."

"Maybe… … maybe."

* * *

A/N: …


	17. Simple Joys

A/N: So I've been trying to start up a pokemon-based dnd campaign and currently working on rulings on how the world functions. This means I have to decide/been asked whether people eat pokemon and other food chains questions, address gorebyss being a vampire, do butterfree really die after breeding, and where does the baby in kangaskhan's pouch comes from. I've even been asked by the players if pokemon and people get married to each other in this world.

…

( ʘ‿ʘ;)

* * *

ლ(o◡o;ლ) ლ(o◡o;ლ) ლ(o◡o;ლ) ლ(o◡o;ლ) ლ(o◡o;ლ) ლ(o◡o;ლ) ლ(o◡o;ლ) ლ(o◡o;ლ) ლ(o◡o;ლ) ლ(o◡o;ლ) ლ(o◡o;ლ) ლ(o◡o;ლ) ლ(o◡o;ლ) ლ(o◡o;ლ)

I have seen things. Terrible things. One of the most horrific being about bounsweet's **_sweat_** (but then again, I guess people do eat bee vomit).

ლ(o◡o;ლ) ლ(o◡o;ლ) ლ(o◡o;ლ) ლ(o◡o;ლ) ლ(o◡o;ლ) ლ(o◡o;ლ) ლ(o◡o;ლ) ლ(o◡o;ლ) ლ(o◡o;ლ) ლ(o◡o;ლ) ლ(o◡o;ლ) ლ(o◡o;ლ) ლ(o◡o;ლ) ლ(o◡o;ლ)

* * *

Simple Joys

A clear morning routine had been set by now. Wake up, brave the cold to the covered cathole, and then hurry to the main tent where you hope you arrived in time for whoever was cooking today to have already stoked the fire high. Gulp down warm soup and whatever add-ons accompanied it – usually dried fruits or steamed vegetables – before you would quickly clean up by the fire to spare your hands, and when, finally, as the fire smoldered to embers, you would be given tasks for the day.

"And this is an elephant," Bun said as he finished the last few strokes in the dirt in the corner of the main tent closest to the stove. "They live far to the west in vast plains, and they're really huge! Like the size of a small house – or two cars!"

The "kirby" kids crowded closer.

"It has a tentacle on its face?" Arlen asked, pointing.

"It's its nose!"

"_Weeeeeird!"_

"Here." Above the elephant, Bun quickly sketched out an elongated form. "This is a giraffe. They have long necks. They live around the elephants."

"… Why does all the animals on your planet have one or two parts of their bodies that are really long?" Romilly asked.

Bun shrugged and had already begun another drawing. "This is a seahorse! They live in the sea! They use their curly tails to grab onto stuff because they can't swim very well."

"They only have their tail?" Romilly traced the curled form in the air. "What happens if they lose their grip?"

"Um… I'm sure they'll be fine. They'll just grab onto the next … something and work their way back." Another two drawings were added to the collection. "This is a tortoise, and this one is a turtle." His stick pointed back to the first. "They live in the desert and can't swim." The blunt point shifted to the other with more flipper-like feet. "And they are ambi- … am-… amphibious! They can swim _and_ walk on land!

"Oh! I know!" The elephant was hastily wiped away with Bun's foot and replaced by a fuzzy oval with pointed ears and wide wings. "This is a bat! They're nocturnal and eat lots of bugs or fruit."

"Hehe, it kind of looks like Arlen." (Fumu raised an eyebrow.)

"Does not~" Even Phona started laughing silently with a smile, and Arlen fidgeted as she poked into his side. "Come on, stop~"

"Fumu. Bun."

The level of sound initially dropped starkly, but the difference eased as the children's collective attention turned back to merely find Sir Meta Knight was somehow directly behind them, having slipped there without any audible sound.

"…" Sir Meta Knight cleared his throat, adding, "You have been assigned to me this morning for foraging."

"Okay, I'll go get Kirby."

"No, Fumu. Kirby is joining the other fledglings with Sir Lancelot for flying practice."

Arlen threw his arms up, beaming brightly. "Yes! Flying!"

"Having the other fledglings to observe may help Kirby," Sir Meta Knight explained.

She nodded in understanding. "Yeah, alright."

"Oh! If they're practicing flying, can we watch?" Bun asked.

"… Maybe if we get back in time, but the rookery has six people to feed over the winter. If the winter is bad, we need to ensure they have the supplies they need."

"Hm, then let's catch a lot of fish or something and hurry back! I'll go get my daypack!

"Come on, Fumu!" Bun called back as he ran out the tent.

"Coming!"

* * *

"Woooow." Bun gingerly scooted closer to the edge on his stomach. It was only a short distance between the overhang to the moderately fast stream below, but Bun knew better than to take chances. "When you said there can be a lot of fish this time of year, I didn't expect – oh, cool!" Bun pointed at one particular fish as it darted up high from the water to land into an elevated portion of the stream.

Below, its fellows still churned the water white under the small waterfall. "Why don't we take a net and take those back?" he asked. "Then we can get back to watch the flying lesson!"

"…" Sir Meta Knight eased closer to study the scene below. His eyes shifted from the small mass of swarming fish to the eroded boulders, slick with moss and spray, that made up the stream's banks. "If this is a natal river, it would be best to go further downstream, but the distance would be too far for you two."

"But there are fish right there! We could throw down a net."

"I would hope we do not reach the point where we need to eat spawning fish."

The siblings looked over at Sir Meta Knight. "Why not? Don't bears eat them out here?" Bun asked.

"We are far from the ocean. These fish may not be the most appetizing."

"But they would still be food," Fumu halfway asked. "Even if they taste bad, couldn't they be stored for an emergency?"

"… They could … but these fish can start developing necrosis as their systems shutdown for spawning. … I'm not sure we should risk getting the rookery sick when heavy snowfall could isolate them."

"Whoa, zombie fish," Bun whispered.

"Keep an eye out for any that have yet to change color, but I would doubt finding any this far inland."

* * *

"Will we be visiting during the winter?" Fumu asked once both of her feet met with the soft forest debris on the ground below after carefully sliding down the steeper rocky hillside.

"We'll have to see the state of things when we return."

"Heh," Bun chuckled as he trotted up to catch up with Sir Meta Knight, "it's funny: being home will be like a vacation."

"Hm?"

"Starting a village is hard work. There's always something that needs to be done.

"Find food. Prepare food. Plant seedlings to grow plants to have more food later. Make stuff. Make stuff with that stuff. Make stuff to store stuff. I'm sleeping great, but breaks are wonderful." Bun smirked as he thought of something. "You know, this has probably been the most you have talked to us for this long."

"Oh?"

"Yeah! With the others around, you're actually saying more than two sentences per day!"

"…"

"Bun's right!" Fumu joined in. "Although," she laughed, "a lot of it has been, 'No, Romilly'."

"Ha, yeah!"

"…"

"… Hey, Sir Meta Knight. Can we see your 'tricks'?" Bun asked.

"No."

"But whhhy?"

"We have a task to complete."

"… Okay then… how about answering this: why don't you guys build treehouses?"

Sir Meta Knight glanced back at the two. "Treehouses?"

"You all have wings – _right? _– but you're building tunnel-houses." Bun gave Sir Meta Knight a smirk.

"Some desert owls burrow," Fumu supplied. "Is it like that?"

"It's more defendable."

_Again_, Fumu muddled, _defending themselves_.

Fumu let herself fall back to give her and her thoughts a little room, letting herself also lose track of whatever the other two were saying in the process.

Their papa had said that soldiers could lose their "understanding of delicate aspects". She loved her papa but what did he mean by _that_? Was it an opinion from his experience working in state? Some strange aristocratic thinking from the other kingdoms? A miscommunication?

She could see it as a miscommunication. Her papa was like that. _Which is a great trait for a Cabinet Minister_, she thought sarcastically.

What were "delicate aspects"? …_Delicate?_

With any answer only half-formed and set aside, Fumu jogged back to the others. "Hey, Sir Meta Knight. Are you guys going to build a library?" ("Delicate" or not, she could see a library as something that would need to be protected.)

"… … We don't have libraries as you do. Books like yours are destroyed easily and weigh much. Texts are digital and are kept in protectively-insulated storage units."

She gasped excitedly. "Do you have one?! Can we read something from it? Who are some famous authors?"

"… …"

Her expression fell. "And you can't tell us… for whatever reason … or do you guys not have one?"

"… How about this: pick out some of your favorite books along with anything that you think would be useful and bring them on the next visit."

He didn't answer – _again_ – but he at least provided an alternative that Fumu liked this time. "Sure!"

"If we're carrying a bunch of books, I want the pickup spot closer to Kabu. My arms nearly fell off last time!"

"I'm sure we can work something out," Fumu said, and she smiled. Fumu … actually felt near pure excitement. Worry had hung heavily over her throughout the trip (and peaked after the talk with Sir Meta Knight that night) and that worry still lingered, but the idea of coming back here to see what everyone had built while they were gone and to continue showing them about their world sparked joy and anticipation in her, and she liked it…

a lot.

* * *

A/N: A letter:

Dear Sideshow27,

You keep sending me messages with extraordinarily vague, short questions. Send a message with the word "xylophagous" if you're not a bot.

Plz and thank you,

MS


	18. A Passing Front

A/N: I'm officially stating that I'm running out of backlog. [Those with questions, please remember that I wrote 'chapters'.] Of course it dwindles right at one of the bigger switches. There is a fair amount of sections written after the switch but there are whole sections that need to be rewritten and none of them are properly edited.

Long story, short, I'm probably going to go back to posting every two weeks. Also, I will be switching to posting around the next day instead as my life is getting busy again.

A/N:

Ivyna J. Spyder: Thank you~ :)))))))))))))))))))))))))))))

A/N: |･x･`) OOOOOOOOh, I worry about this chapter's reception but here we go! \\(ᗒᗨᗕ)/

* * *

"We brought nuts!" Bun shouted as he tried to lift up the basket. "Heh, mostly nuts." With Sir Meta Knight doing most of the work, the two moved the large basket to rest against the tables.

"Hmm." Morriphina had glanced over at them but her focus largely remained on mixing the large bowl of what Bun had come to call 'ration pudding'. They simply called it rations, and it was a bunch of whatever they had gathered in the last few days that had finished drying, typically some combination of meats, berries, and nuts with suet – which was _animal fat_ – holding it together_._ They would flatten it out and cut it into bars but before that, it looked like (nasty colored and textured) pudding. It didn't taste too bad. If anything, it was bland, which he thought strange because there was usually berries in it. You would think it would make it a little sweeter than it was.

Bun didn't fidget as much as he use to under Ms. Morriphina's gaze, especially since the suspicion in it had faded. Now, if he was honest, she seemed kind of sad and not a I-haven't-slept-well-in-days-because-I-have-the-equivalent-of-a-billion-mouths-to-feed-over-winter-and-its-cold-as-hell-already kind of sad. If anything, he thought she avoided them and Kirby.

"Are they already separated?"

Her question knocked him from his thoughts. "Yup!" and began to pull out different bags from the basket to arrange on the closest corner of the tables.

"We have black walnuts, chestnuts, and acorns," Fumu said as she neared to help unpack, "and we found a few late wild apples."

"Take the walnuts outside by the firepit to be shelled."

"Okay!" Bun said as he hurled the bag over his back and headbutted into the tent flap to snap it open, which earned himself a few glances.

"Meta, aren't acorns troublesome?"

"Somewhat. We'll need to start by floating them in water. We want to collect the ones that sink. They are, along with water, plentiful here, so it could be worth the time… It's an experimental batch."

Morriphina nodded, turning back to one of the open crates and fetching another large bowl. She pulled out the nozzle of the strange crate (one that Fumu had realized early in their stay stored water) and stood by, watching as it filled.

Fumu saw her chance and eased closer. The sound of the bowl quickly filling was quiet compared to the sideways stare that Morriphina was giving her as she neared. "So… what's your favorite type of book?" This could go bad, but she should at least try. Hell, even Sir Meta Knight seemed to be slightly more open out here, or maybe that was because he already seemed to know the other adults here… Maybe it made him feel more comfortable.

Morriphina twisted just enough to look at her fully but didn't speak.

"Um… Sir Meta Knight suggested I bring some copies of famous novels and anything that seemed useful the next time we visit.

"I was thinking of asking everyone to see what their tastes are," Fumu added quickly, making it up on the spot.

Morriphina's hand reached over to turn off the water without a word. "Please bring over the acorns," she said instead.

"… Okay."

There was relative silence as Morriphina poured the bag in. The sack set aside, she said, "Bring texts on Pupupuland's culture, etiquette, and law."

"Uh, sure!" Fumu's hopeful smile grew wider. "Culture and law should be easy but I'm not sure about etiquette. If anyone visited, we could probably just tell you how. Our mother gives us lessons. If you mean for more formal situations, anything written is probably outdated or wouldn't be useful. King Dedede doesn't really have audiences… or balls," a_nd I don't think anyone will be going to one of them soon anyways with Nightmare hanging over King Dedede's shoulder._

"Very well... Please start washing the apples. Slice them for drying."

"On it!"

* * *

Fumu had a correction to make: this tent was _definitely_ the warmest one. She took the moment to snuggled deeper into her sleeping bag with contentment despite the growing howls of wind outside.

As the day had neared evening, the wind had kicked up harshly. By the time the adults had erected this new tent – short, its inside an almost reflective grey, and a covered opening in the center of its roof that allowed smoke to pass but not rain – both the tall trees and the huddled children were shaking from the stinging wind as the temperature steeply dropped. The regular tents, Sir Lancelot explained, could survive the wind but with the dipping temperature, Morriphina was right: they needed to keep together for the night.

It was the first time the main campfire had been lit since they had arrived. A bell-like cage was set over its flames to protect those sleeping around it, though none but Kirby (who was nestled next to her) was sleeping just yet.

Fumu and the other children were largely clustered to one side of the fire. The tent's plastic sheeting floor which ringed the firepit, layers of bedding, and sleeping bags protected them from the cold, damp ground.

Sir Lancelot and Sir Meta Knight had taken seats nearby and were busy shelling the walnuts with knives. The children, on the other hand, were working on the acorns, but it had turned into more of a competition to see who could crack open the most acorns at one time – with varying results.

"We need bigger hammers," Arlen muttered as he studied the face of the hammer in his hand, thoughtfully rubbing off the debris cumulated on it.

"Do you think it's going to snow?" Bun asked Allyria.

"… It's possible." She didn't glance up from where she sat in her own cot nearby and the small device she held. "Meteorology is not my specialty, but it's plain to see that a front is passing through.

"I hope it doesn't hail," she said softly.

"Can this tent stand up to hail?" Fumu perked up at Romilly's question.

"We'll be fine, fledglings," Sir Lancelot replied, another shelled walnut plunking into the bucket.

"Hey, Sir Meta Knight! If the weather gets really bad, are we staying another day?"

"… We want to avoid that as much as possible… If we miss the expected date for our return and Sword and Blade don't receive a comm' because of this weather, they will try to investigate. We don't want attention out here."

"Um, okay," Bun said with a sigh.

With her pile dwindled down to only a few acorns, Romilly finally leaned back and sighed restlessly to Fumu's side. She gathered them up, their total barely a handful, and offered them wordlessly to Phona. Phona nodded, and Romilly added them to the other's pile. "Ms. Allyria?" Romilly said as she stood and worked her way around the firepit.

"Yes, Romilly?"

Romilly eased up onto Allyria's cot and rested against her. "Can you sing something?"

(Despite her conscience bugging her, Fumu's attention stayed on the long, thin, and solid stripe on Allyria's upper back after Allyria leaning down to Romilly exposed it to her. She frowned and finally pulled her gaze away, hoping no one saw.

Her hammer, though, came down on the couple of acorns she had set down before getting distracted with perhaps a little too much force.)

"Oh," a slight blush deepened the color on Allyria's cheeks as she glanced away from Romilly, "um."

"Ah, ***!"

Those closest to the tent flap yelped as it opened, and the wind blew in what felt like thousands of little needles of ice. Morriphina quickly turned and pushed the flap back into place as the wind caused it to lash violently against her grip.

Bun, closest to the tent flap, threw his sleeping bag over his head as the wind harshly blew over him the strongest. "COLD-COLD-COLD!"

Morriphina's sigh quivered from her shivering as she finally finished zipping the opening closed. "***," she whistled something low like a mutter and rubbed at her arms as she moved to the fire. "T-the gui-ide rope is-s up." She shook herself as if to shake off the cold and quickly wrapped one of the blankets from her cot around herself.

Excitement brighten Arlen's face. "Is it snowing?"

Morriphina paused to press at her face with the blanket before answering. "Mi-ight as well b-be."

"We could awaken to snow in the morning if this keeps up," Allyria interjected.

"I want to see snow!"

"_None_ of y-you are going out there until this w-weather eases," she said, her look clearly directed to all the children.

"So~" Bun turned to Sir Meta Knight, "do we get to stay now?"

"We'll see, Bun."

"Aw~"

The grip of small hands clutching to her strengthened, causing Allyria's attention to fall back down to Romilly. "Are you scared?" she spoke softly.

"I want to go back to the ship."

She rubbed the fledgling's back again. "It's alright." Allyria kept herself from glancing at the cappy children as she leaned down closer to Romilly. Softly, she spoke, "The main 'cabin' is almost done and when it is, we will have a nice place to live. We'll have gardens … and pools … and all you fledglings will have so much room to explore and fly." She took a moment to laugh quietly, trying to ease the fledgling's worries. "When I and Sir Lancelot are finished with the main floorplan, I _definitely_ want to go explore more of this forest. This planet's biodiversity is so high. Don't you want to go exploring?"

"Yeah~" Romilly said tentatively.

"Winters are cold, aren't they?" She smiled for her. "But they pass. Spring then warm summer then autumn and finally cold winter again. That how things are with planets with tilted axes. … Well, it's really only a warm and cold season but… … Do you still want a song?"

Allyria response when the fledgling nodded was to take a long sip from her canteen to wet her throat (and to steal the time to bolster her courage). Again, she leaned over, and gently sung a low, slowly warbling note which fell and rose almost just as slowly. To Fumu is sounded more like a flute than a voice or even a hum, but given that different whistles meant something, she wondered what it sung of.

* * *

Putting everything – every feeling, every worry, every stupid little thing that stalled her – aside, she decided (_for the last time_).

…

She was going to do it.

Morriphina sat up in her cot, ignoring the glances from Lance and Meta by the firepit. Instead, her attention homed in on the sleeping children. All seemed to be deeply asleep so, with one last push from within, she eased quietly up from her cot.

Once she neared the children clustered on the mats and blankets, she heard Meta shifting behind her, moving toward her as she carefully pulled back the blanket from over the female cap- … Fumu.

The fledgling had wrapped his wings around himself like a blanket. A teether he had gone to bed with had fallen from his slightly lack mouth to wet the bedding below.

As she leaned down, again her senses were bombarded by how the fledgling's energy was _**off**_, and she cursed her stupid instincts.

…

…

She exhaled slowly as she leaned further down and gingerly worked her hands under his form. He stirred briefly, little mumbles issuing from his mouth, but still slept – until she nearly rested him against her chest and confused eyes blinked open wide, and she froze.

She eased him away from herself as his expression pinched.

"_Poy~_"

"Ehh," her own strained sound tricked her throat as she sat him down. Those blue eyes regarded her, but he seemed distracted, like he was searching: his brows furrowed and eyes wandering from her often.

Gently, she took his small hand in hers and took a few steps back towards her cot. Meta eased back to give her room as she turned, and she found that Lance had retaken his seat by the fire.

The fledgling chewed on his hand as she led him to her cot.

"Meta?"

"Hm?" he drifted closer.

"Set him here." She patted between where she sat and her thin pillow.

"Hm," and he nodded in understanding.

Kirby babbled slightly as he was maneuvered to rest against her front and those babbles grew happier at the contact. Wings tucked in, he rubbed his cheek happily and sleepily against the warmth.

Morriphina stilled as Kirby did, and leaned back as the babbles turned to whines, and the fledgling pushed his face into her stomach. "…"

Meta leaned in but didn't interfere.

"… What is he doing?" she whispered.

"… Kirby?"

"… He's drooling, Meta."

"Kirby."

It was Morriphina who acted first, slipping her hand between herself and little one's forehead. She eased him back and any lingering hardness in her expression dropped away as she realized the little one was sniffling. "Oh," _shit_. She let her hand slip away so the fledgling could cling fully to her again. … _At least he can breathe now._

Lance had drifted closer again by now but had kept his distance from the scene. "This is a good sign, right?"

She looped an arm around the fledgling and gently pressed him against herself. Tears she knew she should be- tears she _felt_ just at the bay* of pooling still didn't fall as she was _still_ too distracted by - _numbingly distressed by_ \- the small sun _burning _not as it should so close to her own.

Together, the three of them watched, almost dumbfoundedly, at the little form quietly tearing as he clung.

* * *

A/N: [In a mostly joking tone] Don't at me~ OC's can have prominent roles, too~ This hate towards OC's is a limiting factor.

*A/N: So apparently I have this thing of using "bay" strangely. I've never recognized it as a jump in meaning from the original until I tried looking it up.


	19. Distractions

Guest von Fourth "attention captured": Yeah~ I'm glad you're finding it interesting!

It would be fun to see what everyone predicts has happened/is going to happen. :D

* * *

Distractions

* * *

The rain that fell when Fumu awoke was softer. A few times she had nearly awoken fully as the winds blew and the unmuted torrents of rain washed over the tent during the night, but this quieter ambience was soothing. She was warm and…

…

_WherewasKirby?_

…

She abruptly curled up. Some of the other children around her were stirring but there was one too few bulges under the blankets. Fumu rolled to her hands and knees, surveying the rest of the tent.

It took a moment for her to recognize Sir Meta Knight without his mask. Without it, he seemed so different, and right now, tired. (To actually see his expression was so weird, but at least she was getting a better idea at what the slight shifts in eye color meant.) "Where's…" she stopped as Sir Meta Knight dropped a cleaning cloth onto his mask in his lap and put a finger to his lips. She would have asked why but she got her answer as she followed his gaze and found Kirby nestled with Morriphina in her cot.

… She sighed, shaking her head. Kirby was little and had quite the habit of getting himself into trouble, but if Morriphina was allowing it, it should be fine.

"What's the schedule for today?" she whispered as she moved to Sir Meta Knight's cot. This _was_ their last day.

"You and the other children will largely have the day off. Allyria and Sir Lancelot need to focus on finishing the main lodgings before more severe weather comes, and we wish to give you all the opportunity to further strengthen bonds."

_Um, okay, that wasn't a kind of weird way to put it._ "Why isn't everyone up already?"

"… … We were discussing matters concerning the future of the rookery. The meeting went late."

"Oh…"

"You may go back to sleep if you wish or you may help Sir Lancelot with breakfast in another … fifteen minutes."

"…" She smiled and hopped onto the empty half of his cot, ignoring the confused look barely evident on his face as she did. "I'll stay up and help."

* * *

"Bring balls and slingshots and colors! … They use things like paper, right? Bring lots and lots of paper!" Romilly said, leaning in from her seat to try and get a better look at the list Sir Meta Knight had laid upon the table. "It's almost my name day! Can I get my own knife?!"

"Shouldn't he be getting proper weapons for the rookery?" Arlen asked.

Small toys, crayons, and paper, he wrote, but shook his head and said, "It would be difficult to find any suitable weapons in the kingdom – blade or artillery." _But maybe the metal could be reworked_…

His thoughts wandered down several more tangents before he added nails and screws to the list. The others may find such things archaic, but they would be using wood for things like furniture for the foreseeable future. Anything small to speed along the process would be a boon.

"We should bring watermelon!" Bun said as the silence from Sir Meta Knight grew longer. To the others, he added, "Kirby loves watermelon. Like _too_ much," and he laughed. "They're this big fruit that's really sweet, and you can get a good amount of them from one plant.

"Let's bring some seeds!" he told Sir Meta Knight. Bun got a "hm" but suspected he would have to repeat it once Sir Meta Knight was paying attention again.

Bun's own attention, however, didn't travel back down to the table. Instead, his focus shifted to the quiet scene behind Sir Meta Knight and past the firepit.

A telltale bulge under Ms. Morriphina's covers meant Kirby still hadn't got up. Sure, it was cold outside, but it was comfortable in this tent. … He hoped he wasn't getting sick (or going to grow _more_ wings… or tails or horns).

… And this was the first day off that Ms. Morriphina had taken while they had been here.

…

…

Bun looked back down at the list and tried to focus.

* * *

With the ice sticking to the scraper tapped off, Fumu let the scraper fall to rest against the side of the thing Allyria had called an energy crystal and quickly buried her numbing hands under her arms. She leaned closer, studying how the patterns of many small rhombuses shimmered and raced across the cube's surface in the sun's light.

It was beautiful…

Fumu had been scared she would damage it despite Sir Lancelot saying otherwise, and she still sighed in relief as no apparent scratches marred the brilliantly patterned surface.

She wondered what it was made of. How was it made? How did it absorb and store sunlight? How-

"Fumu."

"Oh!" She turned around. "Hey, Sir Lancelot. I finished getting the ice off."

He nodded. "Sir Meta Knight needs to talk to you and your brother for a moment in the," he paused, "I guess it is the sleeping tent now. Your brother is already there."

"Okay!" She darted off, careful to not slip on the ice patches dotting the ground.

* * *

"Fumu. Bun," Sir Meta Knight said as Fumu slipped onto the bench by her brother. "We need to discuss what is going to happen when we return."

"What is there to discuss," Bun asked. "We know not to tell Dedede about this place for a buttload of reasons."

"_Bun_."

"… It's not a curse!"

"As I was saying … we were discussing in particular last night how to introduce Kirby's changes to the village."

"It's not really going to take _years_ to reabsorb his wings, right?" Bun interjected again.

Sir Meta Knight shook his head. "But it can take time. … The current idea is for certain reasonable individuals to learn of the changes first as well as the Mayor explaining generally at a town meeting. He, in particular, would explain that Kirby's 'mission' was to rest after experiencing a condition particular to his species – that isn't spreadable to others – and that Dr. Yabui didn't have the knowledge or expertise to effectively help. When Kirby is actually reintroduced is dependent on how those individuals with more information react and when Kirby is ready.

"All of this so far is true, and I am assuming the more truth that is said, the easier this will be for the two of you."

"…"

"We … could probably lie," Fumu said, still rubbing her hands to warm them. "It's to protect Kirby."

"Lying should be avoided as much as possible, even for a good cause such as protecting another. It is too often followed by destructive consequences." The children went silent for a moment, both of their gazes drifting downwards.

It was Bun who spoke up first. "But this all seems pretty truthful to me."

"That's because this is where things get tricky. Obviously, there would be questions. Sir Lancelot has offered that if push comes to shove and any of us finds ourselves in a situation where we are compelled to answer more specifically, he can be spoken for as help I received from offplanet to shelter Kirby away from the King as he … 'recovered'."

"But wouldn't that be dangerous?" Fumu asked.

"It is widely known in most spheres that Sir Lancelot and I served together. If it is found out that we are in contact, it wouldn't be strange."

"Okay, so you called up Sir Lancelot to help Kirby. That's barely a lie," Bun said, shrugging.

"A lie is a lie, Bun … but he was not sheltered out here, not under Kabu, and there are no others with Sir Lancelot. And for now, there is _no_ mention of what Kirby is 'afflicted' with. Not yet. If Nightmare found out, he very likely wouldn't care. He would be aware of this change in our species, but King Dedede is the wild card.

"At the time when Kirby's wings are less fragile and he has more control, ideally I want to have most of Pupupuland know before the King has the chance to twist the information."

Bun leaned forward, excited. "And that's when the other kids can help, right?"

Sir Meta Knight nodded. "They will likely play a part."

"Yes!"

"Sir Meta Knight," Fumu wanted to sigh, "what happened to make you so certain that the wings will cause problems?"

"… The usual."

Tried as she might, Fumu couldn't get any more than that out of him.

* * *

It was getting very late in the day by the time Sir Meta Knight returned from foraging. He was tired, his pack heavy, but he still stalled just outside camp as he recognized the sound of children laughing, and he listened, eyes closed as he tried to grasp the peace of the moment.

He eased closer and spied the children between the tree trunks, save Kirby, gathered around a sprawling grouping of mismatched and connected shapes drawn into the dirt. It took him a moment to recognize what had been the original pattern for hopscotch in the middle of the mess that, to be honest, had a bit of an _**other**_ quality to its form.

He shook his head and started around the outer edge of the campsite towards the kitchen tent so not to disturb their play.

Slowly, the different bundles and smaller sacks of forage where arranged on the table. He had just begun to wash the blackberries, had just turned off the tap when he noticed footsteps rounding the tent. Head cocked, he listened even though the other clearly had no intention to hide their presence nor their step held any urgency.

He turned just as Allyria slipped through the flap.

"Sir."

"Everything alright?"

"Yes…" She drifted to his side and continued softly, briefly eyeing the forage on the table, "Morriphina told me to inform the adults that we received a message from Sir Galahad. He will be likely dropping off within the next two weeks. Sooner rather than later, he implied."

"_Dropping_ off? … We told him to keep an eye out but not to approach any yet."

"The message implied it was a special case."

"Did he relay any knowledge of rumors of the rookery spreading?"

"No."

That eased his worry some but it remained flared. His eyes closed in thought, brows twitching behind the mask. "There is always something."

An expression of a smirk and a frown blended together pulled at Allyria's own features. "Always so."

* * *

A/N: My new favorite dnd character is my 1 bard, 2 moon druid satyr. They _will _"waste" a shapeshift to shift into a bear to go around giving strangers _bear hugs_.

[There is no emoticon to convey my trollish grin right now.]


	20. Complications & Worn Hope

Complications & Worn Hope

* * *

Fumu had been worried that there was going to be trouble with leaving with Kirby's sudden attachment to Ms. Morriphina, but after nearly a full day of Kirby acting strangely, he seemed to have finally stopped whatever it was and had even joined the rest of the kids as they waited for Sir Meta Knight and Sir Lancelot to finish warming the speeder.

Fumu felt sad about leaving but they did have stuff to do back home. (They needed to, one, mollify Sir Meta Knight's fears so they could, two, make it so Kirby could go in the village again!)

For now, though, she pushed all that away and tried to focus on what remaining time they had here.

At Fumu's signal, Bun shoved her in the back as hard as he could. Her arms flailed as she slipped across the patch of ice but she didn't manage to keep upright. She fell onto her butt within milliseconds but still laughed as her momentum kept her going until she finally stopped when she reached dirt again.

Romilly eased Kirby closer. "Let Kirby go next!"

"Okay!" Bun patted the closet spot of ice. "Come on, Kirby!"

"Uh… poy!" he muttered before flinging up his arms as any hesitation left, and he toddled over.

"I'm after!" Arlen said.

It took Bun a moment to figure out where to aim his push between Kirby's wings, his hands readjusting a couple times, but he finally managed to get a good push in against Kirby's back to send him "flying". "I want to get another turn," Bun added.

"I can push," Romilly offered. "I…" her words dropped off, and Fumu was the first to follow her gaze to where Sir Meta Knight apparently lingered mere feet from them.

_Sneaking like always_, Fumu internally deadpanned.

"Do we really have to go back so soon?" Bun asked. "Have you tried sending a comm to Sword and Blade?"

"… And how would you explain your absence to your parents?"

"Camping again?" he shrugged. "It's not lying."

"You will visit again. … You don't want _more_ homework piling up, _do you_?"

"…" Bun's gaze narrowed. "The homework card? Really?"

Ultimately, Sir Meta Knight didn't react to Bun's words. Instead, his gaze took a moment to study each of the three. "Go stow your packs onboard and then come back to the group. You need to thank them for welcoming us."

"Alright," Bun sighed.

"Come on, Kirby," Fumu said, offering her hand, which Bun mimicked, and Kirby happily took both.

"Poy-po!"

* * *

Despite the small space, the children's footsteps echoed against the hatched metal that made up the inner surface of the cargo bay door. Many screens and almost a countless number of buttons and lights covered the walls at the speeder's cockpit, and from the children's vantage point, looked as if they were the frame, and Sir Lancelot at the helm, the picture.

"Morning, Sir Lancelot," they greeted him as they entered the cabin of the speeder.

"Good morning, little ones." Sir Lancelot turned back slightly in his chair at the helm. "Ready for a hopefully unexciting two hours of weaving through the landscape?"

"No," Bun replied.

Sir Lancelot chuckled at that and shook his head as he turned back, muttering something as his hand drifted over the controls again.

Out of the corner of her eye, Fumu's attention fell back onto Kirby. She drifted over, and she watched as he stared out towards the cluster of people gathering back by the new-main tent, again, chewing on his hand. She slipped her hand around Kirby's and gingerly pulled it from of his mouth. "Where's your teether? Kirby, you cannot keep chewing your hand. You'll get an infection," she spoke softly. With a glance back to the others, she said, "It's alright. Sir Meta Knight will be coming in a moment."

"Poy~"

"We'll see them again. Don't worry." Any further words were cut off, though, because just as her hand neared him, he slipped out from under her touch. "Wha- Kirby!"

She jogged after him at a slower pace as she wasn't really concerned that he would run off. She was pretty sure she knew what his goal was – those that weren't coming with them – but the color in her cheeks drained away as Kirby headbutted right between Ms. Morriphina legs. "Oh—" _O-OHNONONO!_

"Fledgling!" Ms. Morriphina's arms flailed as she struggled to keep her balance as Kirby squirmed beneath her.

As soon as Ms. Morriphina's surprised expression morphed into something harder, she knew Kirby had messed up and she feared just how much he may have. "Kirby!_ … Kirby, stop!_" Once Fumu got closer, she could hear Kirby warbling dolefully. "He doesn't mean to be rude!"

"Yeah!" Bun said, suddenly beside her and also out of breath. "He doesn't normally try to crawl under people!"

"…" As Kirby settled, Ms. Morriphina did as well, and she gingerly eased down so she could firmly place both feet back on the ground.

Her expression was relaxing but Fumu was still worried. "Please don't be mad at him."

"We know he doesn't mean harm," Sir Meta Knight said.

"… Fledgling … _fledgling_," Ms. Morriphina tried in vain to get his attention. She bent down a little farther. "Little one," her voice softened, "you're no longer a nestling."

There was no obvious acknowledgement of her words nor of Kirby budging either.

"You have wings now to strengthen so you can explore the countless stars." There was a muffled "poyo" but it only served to further etch a sadness into her expression.

"He really doesn't mean anything," Fumu urged as the quiet stretched out.

"I'm not mad," Ms. Morriphina said passively.

"Come on, Kirby," Bun whispered as he squatted down, "that's kind of weird." From his position he could see Kirby's pinched expression as the puff laid there on his side, awkwardly and partially squashed between the cold dirt and Ms. Morriphina.

* * *

Fumu and Bun pacified for the moment, Sir Meta Knight walked around to the side flap of the tent and entered. Just inside, from where she stood, Morriphina glanced up to him before her attention fell back to Kirby clinging to her front. He neared, sighing as Kirby turned up to look at him. Those blue eyes had darkened to something a few shades deeper as tears were threatening to pool again.

…

They had opened the floodgate to difficulty…

…

and they were going to have to work with it.

"Kirby," Sir Meta Knight began but that feeling that he didn't really know what he was doing when it came to young flooded back. Working with nestlings was taught to medics in troops which meant it was something he – in the warrior track – wasn't taught a lick of, and seeing Kirby now, he felt that any wisdom he had collected on the subject over the years was moot. "I'll talk with the children."

"Are you sure?"

"They need to get home. … Will you have the strength for this?" Something in him wanted to laugh as he realized how he had just phrased the question. Once upon a time, she would have punched him off a cliff for it. Instead, her weary expression drifted back down to Kirby wordlessly and she placed a gentle hand on the fledgling's head.

They discussed – they _knew _that despite Morriphina not being able to recognize his energy and all the trouble that (and the traditional notions about self and one's well's signature) caused, Kirby would very likely recognize hers, and he had, and it had evidently set loose all the instincts that (an adulterated) culture and taboos couldn't score away and that distance and time couldn't wane to nothing.

Morriphina had declared that she was going to do it – not try – _do it:_ let Kirby near enough, and she had finally done it… but where did they go from here?

Morriphina wanted to reclaim Kirby along with land to build her own rookery under her own terms. He knew that part of her was still doing it to fulfill the vow to spite her Grandmama, but they all had long since realized a safe place to live was hard to find. It was one of those things that you had to make yourself if you ever wanted it … … … at least, that is how it was cursed to be for them.

He also could tell how her flaring flame of a temperament, now much more so than whenever she had stolen a visit to him, had quenched to something more like martensite, and he wasn't sure how he felt about the universe doing that to her. Stronger, yes, but what had it done to her toughness – her ability to withstand the impacts and cracks that life throws and starts.

He wondered… he wondered if she was starting to feel the twisted form of heavy tiredness that writhed uncomfortably somewhere deep within him, and he worried.

"Yes," she finally said, pulling Sir Meta Knight a little further from his thoughts.

"The items on the list will be easy to gather, and I was going to return soon anyways. As soon as I have the items and can slip away, I'll send a comm to Sir Lancelot. And when things are set up for Kirby to return, that will be when we'll try again."

Kirby wouldn't want to lose the connections he had with the villagers, but the longer he was away without at least an appearance, the more troublesome reintroducing him may be.

She nodded, and reluctantly…

he slipped back out.

* * *

The ride back was a reserved affair. The worry and the sadness from the children were palpable in the cabin's air.

He couldn't let them return like this. The other villagers (their parents especially) would grow concern. If reassuring them that Kirby wasn't going to be permanently staying with the rookery didn't eased their concerns, then how about this: "Potentially, you both could come to visit again before winter really sets in when I come with another supply shipment. Not this next one but possibly the one after, depending on the state of thing."

That brightened their faces to a degree with some mixture of hope and curiosity.

"… You could use this time to make sure you know between you what to say," he added.

A smirk teased across Bun's face but it never could fully form. "We'll just say we made a bunch of campfires, learned more cooking recipes, and slipped on ice – 'cause we did," he said, but Fumu was still muted, shying away in an uncharacteristically diffident manner in Sir Meta Knight's opinion.

"… …" How did he get a child, one that tended to overthink, to realize they were not losing a friend?


	21. Divisions

A/N: Chapter postings are going to be sporadic for a while.

We're also going to be tagging along with MK for a bit.

A/N: So manners of speaking is going to be like this: kids – colloquial speak for whatever is Common in the galaxy. Adults "kirbies" – mix of formal and slang from slang creeping into their formal language as situations became more relaxed over the years. Other adults - dependent.

* * *

Divisions

* * *

Her and her brother's tiredness evaporated as they walked out into the meadow closest to Kabu and saw the warm glow of the castle lit at night in the distance (and how it wasn't on fire or smoking or currently in the process of getting eaten by another octopus-like creature).

Fumu glanced back one more time at Sir Meta Knight talking with Blade and Sword. Part of her wanted to stay but she looked back to the castle and smiled.

Kirby was safe, she told herself, and he would be able to return soon enough, and it was good to be home. "Ready?" she asked Bun.

"You bet!" He started trotting down the road, his fist punched into the air. "To bed!"

* * *

It was Bun who burst into their family's chambers first.

For a fleeting moment, when he recognized their papa and mother's forms flinching up from the dining table at his hollering, he grimaced and backtracked but the confusion on their faces morphed into smiles quickly. "Ah… we're back~" he said, awkwardly. Their mother was closest, so he hugged her first. "We've missed you!"

A warm smile spread across Lady Memu's face. "We have, too, my dears."

Fumu joined Bun, hugging her tightly before stepping back to beam up at both their parents. "Kirby's doing well," Fumu said before turning back and wrapping her arms around their papa's waist.

"Oh?"

"Yeah," Bun said, "but it looks like he's _still_ going to be gone for a bit."

"And we're not sure how long," Fumu added, her sadness tweaking visible more than she would have liked for a moment.

"I see," their papa said before realization bloomed across his face. "Wait! Is this what the trip was for?"

"Hm, yes and no. We did camp while we were gone," Fumu replied.

"And I got to see a fish jump up like ten feet into the air," Bun joined in, "and I found out that it's really annoying to shell acorns!"

"Papa. Mother." Fumu stepped back again. "Sir Meta Knight said he'll have the Mayor update everyone on Kirby soon!"

"How has he been doing?" Lady Memu asked.

"Alright. Please believe me when I say he isn't in any danger. He just needed some time away from King Dedede's antics."

"Well," their parents glanced at each other, "whatever this is, we just hope that Kirby can come home soon," their mother said.

"I am sure he will be very happy to return as well," Lord Pamu added.

"Yeah." Fumu hugged her papa again, this time to also hide the pensive frown her smile had fallen to.

* * *

The start of whatever trouble that was going to come from them returning happened soon after their arrival, but they weren't that surprised.

It was only about a couple hours after dawn when Fumu and Bun heard from Waddledoo that Sir Meta Knight had been summoned by King Dedede. For what, no one could say exactly, but all who lived in the castle knew that you could only predict the King's action to a certain degree anyways.

Fumu and Bun skidded into the hall just in time to spy Sir Meta Knight as he was about to pass through the large double doors to the throne room. He paused, his yellow-tinted eyes wordlessly regarding them for a second before he slipped through the gap between the doors.

The wordless silence stood as the door slowly creaked shut and telltale sound of the heavy lock slipping into place was heard.

"The grate," Fumu whispered harshly. Bun nodded in agreement.

* * *

"You're been spreading rumors that I hurt that pink menace, haven't you!"

"No."

King Dedede's face purpled as he growled and clutched the arms of his throne to the point his fingers paled in color. One of those fingers came up to jab at the lone form in the middle of the room. "You've been saying that I've killed that pink menace!"

"… … No."

"Then how you explain all the cappies getting their whities in knots!"

_Whities? _"… Sire, I have been away from the kingdom for nearly a week as I mentioned I was going to be. I have yet to fully catch up on events."

"They think I," he paused to slowly drag his thumb across the underside of his beak, "Kirby! They got it from somewhere!"

"I can assure you I wouldn't spread such a lie. I have only explained Kirby's absence as a necessity to allow him to grow stronger. A journey, if you will, to strengthen himself, and he will return when he is able.

"I have not spread such rumors that the reason he is gone is due to you harming him," he passively stressed.

"_Yeah, right!"_

"… You did celebrate running him off."

"Well!" King Dedede gestured wildly as if trying to snatch words from the air. "_He's_ the one taking so much damn time getting back!" His glare shifted back down to Sir Meta Knight. "Tell that lot that I didn't do anything to that pain in the ass!"

"Okay."

King Dedede leaned forward in his throne and glared down with heavy suspicion. "Rrreally?"

"Yes. I have no qualms with telling the villagers this truth."

"…"

"…"

The King's glare hardened on Sir Meta Knight. "…"

"…"

"…"

The staring contest between the two was finally broken as Escargoon physically shoved himself in their line of sight. "Okay, enough!" This time it was Escargoon who jab a finger down at Sir Meta Knight. "Go do your job!"

Sir Meta Knight regarded the two before bowing. "As my King wishes."

* * *

It took longer for the children to catch up with him after he finally escaped the throne room and he was almost to the kitchen when Fumu and Bun all but tumbled through its doorway.

"I see it has been a busy morning," he said passively as he took out portions of cheese, flatbread, and fruits from the refrigerate and pantry, noting the children's flushed looks.

"We asked Papa about those rumors," Bun threaded in between gasps. "Sprinting up stairs sucks," he muttered.

"I see." Lord Pamu typically wasn't the best source of information on what the villagers were saying but potentially there could be a gleam of something useful. "What did he say?"

Fumu shook her head. "Papa said people have been wondering things, but he said that no one has asked if King Dedede had … had hurt Kirby really bad."

_They probably would never ask that to the Lord directly. _"Hm." Sir Meta Knight's hand stalled as it grabbed a portion of mutton left untouched by one of the King's many meals, and deciding to splurge _just _a little, grabbed a second. Given everything that has been going on, he felt like he needed the extra energy. "Keep an ear open and be truthful if any ask you whether or not the King was involved." His late breakfast in hand, he started off down the hall but didn't get far before pausing to glance back at the children still trailing behind. "Do you two plan on following me all day?"

"No," Bun asked.

"When are you going to talk to the Mayor?" Fumu added.

"Soon enough but there are steps before that and errands that I need to get done first. Let's say in about a week's time."

"What!"

"A week isn't as long as you think. Now is a good time for you two to relax, something you may not get a lot of once Kirby returns."

"But," Fumu started but didn't finish, and she didn't need to.

"Go on," Sir Meta Knight said. "Didn't you two say you had stories of your adventures to tell?"

The siblings glanced at each other, uncertain, and both looked back to him with a determined look, but it was Bun who spoke next. "You better tell us when something important happens."

"I will," Sir Meta Knight said, starting back down the hall again. "I'm sure we all have a lot of catching up to do."

* * *

It did feel a little strange, he'll admit, to be on his old patrols. There was a vague sense of what he wondered what time travel would feel like, and it felt like he had just ricocheted back and forth multiple times.

Sir Meta Knight had even woken up to a hazy feeling that he had overslept and was late to tending to the z'ting.

… This planet doesn't keep z'ting.

He hadn't had to tend to z'ting since before he had first seen King Arthur with his own eyes when the then rebel general, who was coalescing more and more power (and growing more and more rebellious), had challenged Sir Meta Knight's general to a duel.

(He took the next left as he worked his way towards the southern farms.)

Being in milder weather again was nice but it just kept reminding him of the others' situation. Yes, there shouldn't be any serious problems. The rookery had plenty of charged energy crystals to provide for warmth and energy needs, and with the most central structure already hollowed out when they had left, they had a safe place to shelter in. If they were snowed in, they had salvaged air scrubbers for the crystals to power. The hydroponics would be producing before food supplies ran low. The snow was clean so was easily purify for water.

… …

He wasn't focusing. He had to focus on the task at hand, not out there, miles from here.

His face turned up so that he could watch the gentle shifting of the dappled light streaming down from above. On instinct, he closed his eyes, but the winter sunlight was soft today and he found it easy to open his eyes again with his mask on.

He couldn't let himself get sloppy. Not now.

For a few minutes he let himself drift then cycle through several techniques he had in his repertoire to refocus before continuing on his way.

Nothing seemed to have drastically changed while they were gone – at least at a surface level. It was the same cappies going about their same business as he worked his way through the western and southern fields. Peaceful scenes of them tending to their crops and livestock. Chickens occasionally running past him as he walked by. The same snippets of conversions of crops, livestock, and seasons.

The patrol was proving to be more of a mind-clearing walk – until he spied Bun, followed by the typical gaggle of children and then some, clearly jogging over fallowed fields towards him.

"Is something wrong?" he asked once they were near enough not to shout.

Bun pointed back to the other children as he covered the last few meters to him. "Tell them that zombie fish are real!"

"… You can easily look up that information in the library."

"_Wait! It's a thing!"_

"…" Sir Meta Knight wanted to facepalm, but he held off the urge. "They are not like the creatures in your comics nor are they called 'zombie' fish. They are not afflicted by some horrific disease. Nature … did not give them the best hand when it comes to longevity." He cocked a hidden eyebrow as the children continued to gape up at him.

"That sounds sucky," one of them finally said, luckily saving him from having to further the conversation on his own.

"It very well may indeed be."

"Soooo, what _are_ they called," one of the boys asked.

"Go look it up," Sir Meta Knight replied. He got miffed silence with that one, and he smirked as most of the children glared at him with thinly veiled frustration.

Apparently some combination of pacified and miffed enough to be "satisfied" with his answer, a few of the children started breaking off from the group, and Sir Meta Knight saw his chance and took it. "Yuki. Pon."

"Yeah," both answered.

"Sometime in the next few days," Sir Meta Knight ignored Bun's glances between him and the siblings, "I would like to speak with your parents about bartering for some dried pepper and roasted dandelion root. Can you two please tell them tonight?"

"Oh, okay!" the Pon replied.

"Yeah." Yuki turned back to him. "Only pepper and dandelion root?"

"For now."


	22. Those That Long Those That Lurk

Guest the Fifth "dust": Partially. o(^▽^)o I would chalk up the sporadic updates to life (and pandemic) mostly but I like writing too much to not do it as at least a hobby. And essentially what feels like me relearning English isn't helping. I don't remember being taught em and en dashes and semicolons and I wonder if I was. Surely I was.

That being said…

Another note to future self: em dash for interrupted line within quotation marks. You misremembered it as en dash. ALSO, if no speech verb, need em dashes to offset action b/t/around quotes in same sentence. [Boinks head with inflatable hammer.]

* * *

Those That Long. Those That Lurk.

* * *

Today was the day – the day he started their experiment that could threaten the present for just a chance of a better future.

Technically six had been chosen to be debriefed for this first round but after some considering, he had decided to go with only the four for now.

Sir Meta Knight arrived early in the time period that Yuki had relayed back from his mother for when she would be free to take the Guard's order. He paused, though, some distance down the road from the house. He had originally planned to go and ring the bell but he spied Mrs. Amamiya out in her gardens and seeing her had made him pause.

Was he really going to pollute the relative calm that came with certain ignorance?

…

…

Shaking his head at himself, he moved towards the little hut. It proved easy enough to gain her attention, and once inside, he sat down in the offered seat at the kitchen table with Mrs. Amamiya taking the opposite. Pencil in hand, she flipped through several sheets on a clipboard she had grabbed from a nearby bookshelf.

Eyes not looking up, she asked, "Yuki mentioned pepper and dandelion root. How much of each, and was there anything else you wish to add to the order?"

"I wish to discuss about Kirby first."

"… …" Slowly, her hand came up and slipped off the glasses she had just put on. She folded them neatly and set them parallel with her pencil on the clipboard that now rested fully on the table. "… Is his condition serious?"

"No, not like how you're likely thinking," he said, thoughtfully. "First, he is not currently in danger, and the reason for his absence actually stems from a biological quirk of his species, not an illness.

"Kirby's species follows a pattern of development similar to cappies with noticeable changes from infant to juvenile. An example being the teething."

"Mm-hm."

"For Kirby's species, there are also distinct morphology changes associated with this period." There was clear confusion on her face but also curiosity, and though it shouldn't, the scrutinizing gaze made Sir Meta Knight uneasy. "In a strange way, comparing it to a butterfly without the pupae stage would be an adequate analogue."

"… He had a terrible rash."

"He was scratching at the developing wings and my men and I didn't catch it in time to keep him from doing so."

"…" She took up the pencil again only to lean back in her chair. "_Wings?_"

He nodded.

"Alright," she tentatively said.

"Even when Kirby eventually returns, they will be delicate. They won't be harmed by a tug from a too-curious child's stray hand but care should still be taken, even if just to set boundaries. Like with most races, it is rude to touch another without permission and the village children may get too curious and need reminding. Furthermore, it is extremely rude to pluck feathers. His people hold superstitions about feathers and to have a feather of someone you do not have a familial or deep connection with is… unsettling."

_Oooh_, Mrs. Amamiya silently mouthed.

"Also, those at Kirby's age can get bity. There's no maliciousness in this play but they don't know how to regulate their bite. Once Kirby returns, please keep an eye out for such behavior. Kirby can't be allowed to get into the habit of gnawing on what he shouldn't, especially others. _At all_. Any such action must be stopped as quickly as possible to— to prevent the habit," he redirected.

"Okay."

"There is one more thing." He paused to push back at his growing unease. "Kirby's species has an infamous reputation in parts of the galaxy," he finally got himself to say. "With these changes, it will be easier to identify Kirby's species, and if the King learns of this reputation, he may use it to sway opinions negatively towards Kirby.

"Kirby is a child, and children should not be held accountable for the sins of others. And children make mistakes which is dangerous when said child has tremendous power. Living in this village, however, has been good for Kirby. Believe it or not, this village is comparably peaceful. The air and water usually clean. It is a good place for children to grow."

"… … What are you asking me to do?"

"I know you have your family to protect but if such events were to occur where the King incites violence to help in at least the smallest ways you can to keep the peace."

"… …" The pencil found its way back to resting on the forgotten clipboard, and she sighed heavily.

* * *

A/N: Ting! Ting! Warning ding!

Let your imaginations tread a little carefully here.

* * *

The haze Sir Meta Knight had been wandering in hadn't been like this a moment ago. What once was peaceful was now far too _**off**__._ Feeling a sudden chill wrapping around him, his hands slapped up only to confirm what he already knew.

Utterly naked, exposed to this abyss of mist and flashes of broken landscapes, and he growled as he curled into himself.

He was just beginning to recognize where he was when whispers flittered closer from beyond, taunting him, muddling his thoughts, and causing him to drift further from awareness.

He ran with the last glimmers of his consciousness. He couldn't truly escape them but just being out of their grip could amount to enough.

Too clean labs that flickered to razed, smoldering scenes...

Retraining facilities with thin, grim faces, and the phantoms of his own hunger and thirst and the leaden feel of a body in pain trying to slow him down…

Impossibly long rows of covered forms, too still to—

He lashed out with his fist, breaking through the very scene itself and he found himself back where he might as well had begun, haunted by the lingering smell of blood, his own and others', and those whispers growing in volume and number.

…_were snipers in the grotto_…

…_and those bastards won't know what hit them…_

…_telling you it was _**huge**…

…_you are not escaping this time…_

…_you did what you had to do to_…

…_must prepare for that it may no longer be a nest_…

He forced himself up to his feet even as the ground slowly sucked him in. He ran, using the shreds of lucidness he gripped tightly to look for the fault he needed to—

Before him, a too-tall, exaggerated form of an overseer, robed in stark white, suddenly congealed from the dark mist to block his path. Its head bent down, its face featureless, emotionless just like every other of its kind but still so _frustratingly domineering_. Wordlessly, it loomed over him – examining, evaluating, cataloguing…

_Monsters,_ he growled, sparking old rage to life as his fist connected with the image, shattering it too, as well as snapping off the black tendrils that were apparently wrapping themselves around his arms.

_No more!_

The tendrils felt like thick brambles as they suddenly snapped around his form, his breath squeezed out from his lungs as they pinned him against the firm but shifting sludge that made up the ground.

_Brutalizer! Bestializer!_

The smell of his own blood grew stronger as the brambles incrementally tightened. He gritted his teeth as his lungs urged him to breathe despite having stopped being able to too long ago.

That voice he _**hates**_ tauntingly sneered in a whisper far too sickeningly close to his ear in words not its own.

_Maybe it was not the Name Stealer's Taint. Maybe, instead, it was not the stars that blessed them…_

_but the _void_ between them._

_**What made you feel such hope?**_

Getting too close to the edge of oblivion, Sir Meta Knight resigned himself to his trump card and wrenched his arm free only to bite _hard_ into his hand, his fangs piercing his own skin easily.

* * *

The first gasp of true air was cut short as his face connected with the floor.

He wasn't sure how long he laid there, gulping air into his aching lungs in the silence of the Guard's empty, dark quarters beside his bed and the color of his fists blanching from the tightness of their grip on nothing tangible, but by the time he pushed himself from the floor, he shivered from the cold stone brick and his mask having stolen away the warmth from his body.

With a grunt, he stumbled into the small adjacent toilet. Door shut, locked tight, and the small laundry basket uselessly kicked against it, Sir Meta Knight unhooked his mask, letting it go as it slipped to the floor from where he haphazardly leaned it against the wall, and slapped the hot water open. He didn't bother looking in the mirror but instead pulled up the plunger with too much force so that it made a noise as it protested the sudden jerk. It didn't break, which he could be happy for later, his distressed mind told himself in a small voice before he plunged his face into the water quickly pooling in the bottom of the basin.


	23. Old Worries & New Hope

Maryokeeffe16: The name moon glories is actually from younger me forgetting that they're called moonflowers. They're sometimes called white morning glories or evening glories because the flowers (which only last one day) only open their flowers in the evening/night or on cloudy days. I have a thing for plants (yet didn't turn into a botanist strangely enough) and I grew both them and morning glories as a kid. That said, the moon glories mentioned in the fic aren't true moonflowers anyways because they're not vines.

Eclipse3: I actually was thinking of doing that, posting on AO3, but then I got distracted and forgot that I was thinking of making an account to _finally _have access to a true commenting system and now it's been literally weeks. For now, we'll have to see. (;＞ｖ＜)ゞ

A/N: Also, looking at what I've written in the second backlog, this is going to end up being the longest story I've ever fully written out. Practice makes perfect. ┐(´∀｀)┌ Those darn semicolons though. I keep reading the rules and they still elude me.

* * *

Old Worries & New Hope

* * *

"Are you sure you should be going now?" Fumu asked as she sat down the several books she and Bun had picked out earlier onto one of the stone tables carved from the original rock under Kabu. "What if you spread something to them?"

"I'm fine," Sir Meta Knight replied as he finished securing the handaxe to his pack. He took the offered books, pausing for a moment to glance through the titles, and he raised an eyebrow at the cookbook between a volume II from a set of encyclopaediae and a travel guide.

"But Sword and Blade told Dedede that you were sick."

"I needed a day without the King's demands," he said as he turned and slowly worked the first book in between everything else already in his pack.

"So… you lied?"

"…" _Shit..._ "Don't underestimate the need to rest one's body and mind." Out of the corner of his eye, he saw her gaze settled into that passive glare.

"And what would you say about me saying I don't believe you?"

"That is the point of a vacation and the King wouldn't allow one unless it benefited him and not getting sick is—"

"You _know_ what I meant."

"… Did you bring any other items?"

"Yes, actually." Fumu reached into her own shoulder bag with a disapproving shake of her head and pulled out a couple of small, darkly tinted bottles. "For in case anyone got sick in general."

Once they were in his hand and he saw the labels, his stomach dropped. "Fumu, you do not merely take these," he began, gravely.

"It's fine. We asked Mother and Papa to buy these for you guys. Well, technically for the Guard (even if you all seem to not have that much of a problem getting supplies)."

_And they trusted you to deliver them by yourself? _"… Very well." They, too, were stowed away in his pack, and he gripped the pack's strap and pulled up to gauge the weight.

Heavy, but it was doable.

Taking a couple steps to the side, he studied what remained in the small collection of items that the children had started storing in an open crate against the wall, items that they wanted to give to the others. Most of it was old toys they said they had no use for anymore. Some were small things they had bought with their allowances – candies and comic books, mostly. There were a small fishing set, a toy truck, and a puzzle that was too large to take for now. Some wooden tops…

Sir Meta Knight grabbed for a small pouch within the box, and through the feel alone, he could tell it contained a small number of marbles. "Hm." They could be useful in getting the fledglings to play with each other, but he will have to keep Kirby from eating them. Deciding, the pouch was stowed away in the pack as well, and that same hand came to rest atop the bag as he stalled in having to turn back to Fumu in order to leave Kabu's temple.

He could feel her glare on his back. (He did not want to deal with prying questions right now.) "Is there anything else, Fumu?"

"So, obviously a nestling is a baby, right?"

"Yes"—his gaze shifted to her— "from birth to fledging."

"… … "

"What is it?"

"Do… sorry, that may be rude."

He turned to her fully. "You may ask it."

"Um." She shook her head before looking back up to him. "Instead," she paused again to chew at her lip, "how about— you all are part of Ms. Morriphina's rookery, right? Was Kirby living with them, and if so, why was Kirby sent here early instead of coming with the other children?"

"…" He turned away from her, back to the pack. Carefully and evenly, he spoke: "Kirby wasn't living with them before they came here. Kirby was in the care of another: Sir Felspar.

"Sir Felspar found he couldn't safely care for Kirby for the time being and sent him to me to be in my care till he could resume the duty or another who was trusted was found to train him to adulthood.

"And in true fashion, sent no word beforehand," he muttered with a sarcastic tint, but it donned on Sir Meta Knight that he wasn't reliving the difficult emotions that gripped him when he found Kirby in that barn and saw him for what was only the second time. Kirby, he remembered, had had that same expression he had when Sir Meta Knight had first laid eyes on his very small form after being rescued from Nightmare's grip, an expression that studied everything around him: watching, learning, and uncrying so very much unlike a mewling. Instead he realized that the tint masked something more kin to worry for Sir Felspar's silence now mimicked his lack of comm'ing beforehand, and it rubbed Sir Meta Knight the wrong way for far too many possible reasons.

"But!"

Sir Meta Knight turned back to find that expression on Fumu's face again, insecure and grasping, that kept reminding him how very young she still was.

"You're not going to send Kirby away, are you? Especially now!"

"Easy, Fumu. Kirby isn't going anywhere. Especially now," he emphasized using her own words which appeared to ease her worry. As her pause grew longer, Sir Meta Knight took the moment to slip on the pack. "I'll only be gone for about two days. When I get back, I will talk with the Mayor about Kirby."

"Okay," she said simply.

"If the King buys a beast, you and your brother need to be careful about the battles you pick. Know when not to and how not to engage an enemy. I'll be back soon enough and will take care of such things when I return if need be." Sir Meta Knight almost chuckled as she all but growled in annoyance. "Go to Sword and Blade if you two find you need anything," he said as he started towards the temple's door.

"We will. … Also," she interjected, her words pausing him in his step, "nestling as in _nest_?"

"Yes," he replied in an almost asking manner.

A confusion twisted her expression before she continued. "Is that what Kirby is doing with Ms. Morriphina? He's being a baby and wants to be back in the nest?"

"... Yes, actually."

"She won't get mad at him if he keeps hounding her for attention, will she?"

"You don't have to worry about that."

"But everyone's so busy," she furthered.

"Things are almost finish so they are all going to have more time on their hands than any of them probably have had in a long time." _Except for the issue of repairing the ships. _

She sighed. "If you say so."

_It's getting late_, he reminded himself. "Just focus on keeping yourself and your brother out of trouble." With no further protests to stall him again, he started for the temple door.

* * *

Quiet and patches of snow on the forest floor were what greeted him as he stepped down the cargo door with the chicken cage balanced on his shoulder. He paused in that peace, smelling the cool, crisp air and the scent of the mountain pines.

Readjusting the cage, he moved towards the camp but didn't stop there. Past the camp's edge, past the turn to go to the baths, he traveled down a footpath that had come to be carved out from the forest by feet.

He heard the fledglings' giggles and voices long before he heard their footfalls and muttered a little prayer, hoping that the chickens wouldn't be too frightened by this coming storm and _defecate_ on him.

"That is what a chicken is?!" Arlen asked before he had even fully emerged from the brush. "I want to see!"

"They're cute!" Romilly exclaimed.

Reaching up on the tip of her feet, Phona peered closer.

"Are we really going to eat their eggs," Romilly asked.

"Careful. They're skittish," Sir Meta Knight said with a nod and gestured back towards the speeder. "Sir Lancelot will direct you on what to move first."

"Aw, alright," Arlen muttered as he started off in that direction, Phona joining him, but Romilly lingered.

Her olive-green eyes looked up at Sir Meta Knight hopefully. "Can we name them?"

"…" Behind his mask, Sir Meta Knight bit his lip. If down the line the rookery found itself in trouble and if these chickens were no longer laying eggs, they may have to be eaten, and eating something one has named twists the heart. "We'll see," he said, but those eyes were still staring up at him with so much hope. "They… we should let them settle in their new pen first."

* * *

The series of tunnels that had been drilled (_and other_) deep into the mountain range was purposely roundabout and labyrinthine. Littered with false turns, dead ends, and hard to see slots, and with Sir Meta Knight being unfamiliar with their layout, if it wasn't for the chalk markings, he could have easily become lost.

_It must be amazing to have such a powerful ability as to be able to sense through solid objects and create such a complex structure in three dimensions,_ he thought as he worked his way through.

Many of the crates had already been moved into these deeper tunnels and stacked at the inner entrance to the Keep. Sir Meta Knight sat the fidgeting chickens down in an open area and drifted closer to the large metal door propped up by thick metal poles to an upright position. In the outer reaches of his senses, he felt Morriphina to his left, had glimpsed Kirby toddling nearby where she sat, but his eyes were pulled to the portion of stone that slowly _flowed_ over the surface of the door's frame to stopped just short of the actual opening of the hatch. Allyria's hands were pressed into the stone nearby. Sir Meta Knight could see the strain on her, her body stiff and her expression pinched around her eyes which glowed a deep reddish-purple.

_We will need to be careful as others are introduced. All here have powers that would be worth a mountain of wealth to many, both those of the People and not, who are power-hungry._

When his eyes shifted back down to Kirby and Morriphina, he couldn't help the smirk that formed as he spied Kirby (who had taken advantage of Morriphina's being distracted) in the process of slipping out a screwdriver from the toolbox next to her. Kirby was just about to replace the wooden toy he had been chewing on in its stead when Morriphina retrieved the screwdriver from Kirby's hand, and Sir Meta Knight shook his head as Kirby puffed up and pouted up at her.

As Kirby reached for it again, Morriphina acted before Sir Meta Knight could close the distance. With one scoop of an arm, Kirby was pulled forward and pressed against her front. Her large feathered wings, white with flares of hues that could look like flashes of purple fire in the light, unfurled and folded around Kirby, pressing him against her snuggly. Kirby squirmed but settled quickly, and her hands now freed, she buried them again into the device that had been _merged_ into the stone wall beside the hatch.

His small smile, though, which was just about to morph back into a smirk, fell as he remembered the burning of no breath in his lungs and the phantom pain where he hadn't bitten into his arm.

_**Nightmare wasn't going to win.**_

* * *

A/N: Also, introducing the Attribute List!

Arlen – Orangish-red short fur (abt #DD571C). Light orange eyes. Wings implied. Powers: Currently unknown

Allyria – Silvery lavender short fur. Reddish-purple eyes. Powers: Earthbending!

Morriphina – Orange to orangish-yellow short fur. (Think cantaloupe or maybe like peach honey?) Blue-green eyes. Feathered wings. Powers: Currently unknown

Phona – Light blue short fur (abt #B0E2FF). Light magenta eyes. Powers: Uncertain

Romilly – Light blue short fur (abt #B0E2FF). Green eyes. Powers: Currently unknown

Lancelot – Like canon. Deep turquoise short fur. Light "yellow" eyes said to look like Meta Knight's. Powers: Currently unknown

Yup, I'm getting so into this I'm picking out color palettes. :P


	24. Burdensome Dissonance

A/N: I packed this chapter with some remaining sections b/c they fit here better than the upcoming sections so this chap' is kind of biiiiig. （＞v＜）

A/N: If anyone wondering, the hatch is a repurposed part and the chickens were pretty much drugged for the first leg of the journey.

A/N: I only have abt 2-3 mostly finished chapters left in backlog with nothing properly getting done yet for more beyond the outline I have. There's probably going to be another hiatus in the future.

A/N: Thanks to the abt 10-15 people who actually read the new chapters of this rambling story I use to practice/reteach myself English! （⌒▽⌒）

A/N: Writing tip to myself and others: don't let comparing yourself to others make ya question why your silly thing is worthwhile.

* * *

Burdensome Dissonance

* * *

Trip after trip, the remaining supplies was stacked in the main tunnel, and as the camp emptied, the tents were finally taken down and brought below.

When he returned this time, however, the large hatch stood open and the support poles removed and set aside. Morriphina with Kirby still clutched to her front, Allyria, and the rest of the fledglings seemed to be admiring it.

"Is it ready?" he asked as he neared even though the answer was obvious enough.

Both Morriphina and Allyria turned back to him but any words from Allyria were lost, muddling together with her soft pants. She looked away as she wiped the gathering sweat from her forehead.

"The hatch is secured," Morriphina replied for Allyria. "It can safely be walked through and used."

"Hm," he nodded.

"Are you sure we can't get our own rooms?" The three adults looked down at Arlen as they all seem to collectively at once realized where the question had come from. The fledgling took a few more tentative steps forward even as he scrunched down. "Um…"

Sir Meta Knight glanced at Allyria who, without even needing to hear someone mention putting more on her plate, looked ready to bury herself into any form of bed, be it even sheets on the ground, and not come out from under the covers for at least a few weeks. "Be grateful for the space you have gained, young one," he replied.

"I am! I really am, but… there may not be a billion others jammed in with us but I still want my own room – ah, one day – like Bun and Fumu. You know… one day…"

"When you see the space, I'm sure you will see that it is plenty big," he said but Sir Meta Knight could tell that the fledgling was clearly holding back his retort.

"Hark! I hear mutterings! Are you all talking about me again while I'm away?" echoed from further down the tunnel with a chuckle, interrupting what any had planned to add.

"Just the usual," Morriphina called down jokingly.

"Well, that doesn't sound good," Sir Lancelot chirped.

As Sir Lancelot appeared around the corner, Sir Meta Knight's eyes caught on the metal cylinder that the other carried under his arm. "That has better not be what I think it is."

"Oh, it could be."

"_Lance_."

"It's fine~" Sir Lancelot's voice lowered to a normal volume as he neared. "It's for when everything is stored away and the hatch is closed." He patted the metal lightly with soft, dull thumps. "One night of merrymaking in a keep of all things will be fine. Just a little for those who want to shave down the edge." More glances were exchanged from the others, but Sir Lancelot obviously didn't particularly care.

"So," Sir Lancelot eyed the door, "we are ready to move everything in?"

"The cloaker isn't ready yet but otherwise, yes," Morriphina stated.

"Alright then!" Setting down the metal drum, and with a clap of his hands, he managed to get all the fledglings' attention. "Let's get all this moved in so we can all relax, shall we?"

"YEAH!"

"Let's have a feast!"

Phona tried to say something but only a few sparks of light crackled colorfully above her head. Immediately, she slapped both hands over her mouth.

* * *

Arlen froze where he stood, speechless, with his folded bedding resting on his head as he stood in the doorway of his and Sir Lancelot's new quarters. Before him was a mostly bare room. Clean and simple-shaped, between its walls was only a simply carved light crystal on the floor, a couple small crates, and both his and Sir Lancelot personal packs. No cots had been moved in or proper nestboxes made yet, but Arlen smiled. Haphazardly, he unfolded his bedding with a flick in the middle of the room and rolled across it. He giggled gleefully, stretching his arms and legs towards the ceiling and out to the far sides of the room as far as he could reach.

* * *

Sir Meta Knight paused to let Sir Lancelot pass through the hatch before entering out into the tunnelway again to survey what remained and his eyes fell of the chicken cage that had been left off to the side. Two of the chickens may have been sleeping but the one definitely eyed him warily as he approached. "Easy there," he said softly as he lifted the cage. "If anything, you three are going to be spoiled." He sighed as they renewed their squabbling but kept walking and he passed the threshold for hopefully one of the last times tonight. "Welcome to the Keep – or at least until a proper name is decided."

* * *

The chickens' pen doubled as a sort of garden area for the Keep and Sir Meta Knight could tell that he would like the area. Even with the chickens, it was comparably quiet, and a small shrine had been set up below the light crystal that glowed with warm, calm light in the middle of the room. Allyria or Sir Lancelot had domed the ceiling and Sir Meta Knight could imagine stars etched or painted across it one day to imitate the hidden stars slowly turning far above. Patches of sod had been scraped from somewhere nearby and transplanted sporadically around the room along with several larger plants. Most were native to Popstar, he recognized, but he paused at the familiar wispy form of a savior fern.

Gingerly, he stroked its softness. Each frond felt like what you think a cloud would and looked like dense clusters of delicate fabric. They were designed and cultivated for the specific purpose of filtering air, and he had been disciplined more than once as a young fledgling for being caught "damaging" them. Cultivators had made them much sturdier than they looked and they wouldn't be harm with a touch but that hadn't stopped the reprimanding.

Sir Meta Knight moved back towards the chickens' cage, and as soon as he lifted the little door, all three chickens dashed into the thin foliage and he honestly couldn't blame them. It took him a bit to find the bag of feed for them and had just started to pour it into their wide, flat feed bowl as he felt a familiar energy drift nearer and nearer. He paused, waiting to see where it drifted before the door behind him ultimately opened. "Any word from Sir Galahad?" he asked without turning back.

"No, but we suspect he'll comm soon with drop-off details." Morriphina took a spot next to Sir Meta Knight. "…" A smile teased at the corners of her mouth but it kept faltering. "I predict Lance will be so tired that he will sit down and fall asleep before he can down any ale."

"Hm, we best make sure the fledglings don't try anything."

"… It's been a long time since there has been any sort of peace around us and not because we were lightyears from the nearest solar system or lost in some planet's wilderness."

"Yes." To him, he mused as he glanced over, Morriphina looked how he thought himself must be looking: pensive, with words stuck on the tongue. "How did things go while I was away?"

"… … It could have been better."

"Kirby?"

"No." Her gaze drifted further to the side away from him as her arms crossed in front of her. "She would be laughing at my weakness…" she said, softly. "Some days I think I have it but then for a moment I just remember _everything_."

Sir Meta Knight felt it as her expression fell further.

"And if I just wasn't reminded _every moment _near him." Her eyes squeezed shut. "When I found out about the starlet, I should have just taken a ship and disappeared into the night sky!" she blurted out like how a tank suddenly and without warning bursts its rivets and seams.

"Morri," he gingerly stressed.

"We shouldn't have stayed with that group, or at least we should have dealt with that idiot! Their fleet leader was a fool and wouldn't listen to _anything_ we suggested! Whose _utter_ stupidity brought the collectors down upon us!" She paused, seemingly realizing her voice was rising again, and subsequently released the tension building in her body as she let the words falter and her shoulders fall.

"…"

"I keep doing that: making it sound accusing and focusing on things I can't change," she muttered, wiping both hands down her face slowly.

"It's…" He wishes that he could make her understand that it's understandable, or better yet, take this away but he can't do the latter for either of them. Gently, he slipped his hand towards hers that had fallen to her side. When she didn't react, he wrapped a finger around her pinky.

He would never deny the cruelty of this all. _Something _was off with Kirby and Morriphina would always know it,and while he may not be plagued by knowing the original energy pulse she had cradled against her own star, he also will never know it. All the things that should have been: Morri safe as her time approached instead of among the imprisoned, Kirby arriving in the safety and warmth of their nest, and him having the chance to properly imprint on Kirby…

He failed to suppress his shudder as his well flinched as if to constrict and wobble as his heart panged.

They had both long agreed, though, that Kirby wasn't some abomination. Even with all the uncertainty of what exactly had happened or was happening with Kirby, Kirby is… … _Even_ despite the cruelest hypotheses whispered by the sharpest tongues of those in the Courts who knew about Kirby, _he __**is**__ a fledgling _and ultimately nothing more.

"You're doing good." It sounded a little awkward but he wasn't taking it back.

She didn't respond but she wasn't turning further away from him. "…" What should he say? "Do you want to gang up on Lance in Two Feathers as we use to?"

There was a pause before she curled forward as she pinched the space between her eyes. "Stars, that was really that long ago," she breathed.

"Although," he added, trying again to get her focus away from the past it dwelt in, "he will not be much of a challenge after he slips under the table."

"Heh."

It was small but Sir Meta Knight took that little noise as a sign that whatever he was trying to improvise here was at least somewhat working. "Morri…"

"…"

Gently, he tugged on her hand. It took a few tries but eventually he got her to fully rest against him.

He wasn't sure how long they had stood there like that but it didn't matter. Whatever the others decided to do for this little festival the fledglings chanted for could start without them, and they will join when they join.

* * *

It only took a morning for Sir Lancelot to be up again after the celebration. Sir Meta Knight, on the other hand, felt a pounding in his head late into the day.

_Whatever _Lance had done for that latest experiment, Sir Meta Knight wouldn't have called it ale. (_Yet you still downed too many shots of it_, he reprimanded himself.) The drink burned like it could corrode steel and no amount of fruit flavoring could have distracted from it.

Lounging around all day yesterday hadn't been his plan. The barest necessities of the Keep had been set up but there was always more that needed to be done. He could have helped increase the number of hydroponics units, instructed the fledglings, even weave simple baskets for storage instead of being essentially stuck face-first in bedding.

He rubbed his aching head again as he turned back to Morriphina and Kirby who were the only ones to remain after Allyria herded the rest of the fledglings back down into the tunnels. Kirby was protesting Morriphina's attempts to maneuver him to the warmth of under the blanket she had wrapped around herself, and it took a stray cold wind to finally convince him to stay.

"Remember: we'll send word when things are ready so don't tell them they can come until then," Morriphina said as she tightened her grip on the blanket as another stray wind blew past. Feet from them was the main entrance that opened out into a now wintry landscape and the wind that occasional blew in came with snow and cold that achingly leeched warmth from deep down in the body.

"Okay." The closest to the opening, Sir Meta Knight glanced behind him again out into the snow and open forest on instinct.

"And add whatever molasses is to the list. Lance wants to try some recipe that will probably poison us all."

That quip caught Kirby's attention. "Ow?" he said as he peaked out once more from under the blanket's edge. "Owie?"

"Joke, little one," Sir Meta Knight replied.

"… The sugars here are too strong," Morriphina tagged on absentmindedly to finish her original thought; her attention, though, was more on tucking Kirby back again under the blanket.

"Anything else to add?"

She shook her head but he still found himself lingering there. Both of them, in fact, lingered regardless that he should be heading to the speeder by now or that they all should at least be getting out of the cold.

"I will return," he found himself saying with what was probably too much emphasis for the situation. He didn't take back his words, though, even as a distant look dulled her gaze and her mouth became a thin, tensed line.

_Goodbye for now_ was what he intended to say next but the words never slipped from his tongue as he all but flinched in surprise as just as he was turning to leave, Morriphina leaned in and rubbed her cheek against his.

Despite the cold touch of metal, a small but true smile formed on Morriphina's face as he rubbed in turn. "I may curse the stars for their 'gift' of sensing wells _and those stupid Court prigs_," she began softly as they drifted apart, leaving out the most obvious of things she would curse for _**it**__ had no place in this moment_, "and for the stars' timing, but I don't curse…" The words didn't have long to hang in the air for as their gazes wandered down, both realized how intensely the fledgling was watching them. Both quickly glanced away with Morriphina clearing her throat of any remaining words. "Ahem," she started before another pause scrambled her words.

"La bada?" Kirby asked… something.

Kirby's confused look morphed into surprise then happiness as Sir Meta Knight's hand came up to softly rub his head. _No more goodbyes._ "I'll be back. Protect each other," he added with more finality.

She nodded with a "hm." "Meta?" she started, stopping him in his turn once again.

"Yeah?"

"Don't give me— and don't let that 'king' give me a reason to lead a charge down there."

"I know," he said softly and finally stepped out into the snow, but he didn't get far. Sir Meta Knight turned back to the small following footsteps crunching the snow behind him and found Kirby just a few paces away. The fledgling had stopped when he did and now that little face was studying him. "Young one, please…" With a sigh, Sir Meta Knight turned back fully and retraced his steps. "Are you missing Fumu and Bun?"

"Eh… hm meh here?"

"Hm," he nodded despite not knowing what the fledgling had truly said. "They'll come to visit you soon enough, or you, them, but right now you need to focus on getting stronger."

"…" Kirby's features drooped a little, his little hands folding together against his stomach as his wings tucked in. "Ba~"

Sir Meta Knight leaned down and glanced over several times to Morriphina still at the entrance until finally Kirby followed his gaze back to her. "She has been trying to get the courage to see you proper for some time now." (They both had, honestly, but unexpected crash-landings proved very effective in speeding that process along.) The fledgling seemed to be now honestly studying the lone form standing at the tunnel's entrance. "She probably had bad dreams from worrying."

"Poy?"

"She… would… probably like it if you stayed with her a while longer." He swallowed the words that had first come to him that he was about to say next, something along the lines of staving off nightmares by having another to watch you in the night. "Knowing… you are alright, here, under her wing and safe in the Keep should help ease her bad dreams, do you not think?"

"Poy?" This time Kirby cocked his head with the question.

What he had decided to say next apparently wasn't needed as Kirby quickly turned back to the other before Sir Meta Knight could get another word out. The little boy sprinted over and all but tackled Morriphina's stomach and buried his face against her.

As Sir Meta Knight straightened, he studied the small scene as Morriphina rubbed the little back, and he dared himself to make sure he remembered it. He nodded to her when she silently looked back over to him, and finally, he turned to leave, plagued with the feeling of déjà vu.

* * *

A/N: Look at me attempting something akin to romance and getting angst instead. Eh.

Also, looks like the next chapter is going to be Allyria centered. y（^ヮ^）y

(And to those that ever read Espio's story, thoughts have stirred of rewriting it. I'm not sure when it would happen but we'll have to see.)


	25. Dreams

A/N: Guest "UdosjsbsiskjsnaoK":

Thank you~ I'm trying.

One of my favorite things to do is to explore YouTube and discover all the different music, ambience, etc. out on it, and I sometimes use them to glimpse different feelings when writing. Here are some songs/ambiences I use to try to feel the emotions of certain types of more emotionally charged scenes before I go write them but don't necessarily put a one-to-one connection between the songs' lyrics and the story. The goal was the emotions they evoke.

Longing and simmering anger: Ursine Vulpine & Annaca – "Without You (Extended)"

Defiant hope: Nathan Wagner – "Light"

_Walk in and break stuff: _△Xi∪s ¬iИк – M.I.A. DBT (Remix)

Nurturing: Anushka Shankar ft. Alev Lenz – "Land of Gold"

* * *

Dreams

* * *

What weeks before had been a damp, natural series of caverns now had large portions secured and comfortably warmed by a central energy crystal. Situated deep within the rock of the same mountain range, the area was actually closer to the original camp than the actual keep. The open area within the main grotto was expansive compared to the Keep, good for stretching wings, and was connected to the baths by a tunnel. Where the Keep had rooms carved from the sturdy rock deep down under the mountain, this place was closer to the surface and had had the ceiling and sides reinforced with a lattice of metal foam. Only a few simple buildings had been erected within so far. Well, one was a true building—a fairly sized and simply structured cabin printed from layers of composite sourced from the area—while the others were more opened and served as a covered kitchen, the beginnings of workshops, and additional storage. Part of the supplies had been moved here; the rest was stored away within the true Keep. The two speeders in their possession could now be taken carefully through the enlarged tunnel into the area. The original starship they had arrived in, though, remained in its hiding spot deep within a cloaked misty ravine for now for it was too large and the process too troublesome to extend the effort to keep it closer. As long as it remained hidden, they could focus on establishing the base. There was still evidence of their time on the surface, something troublesome if an enemy was on the ground and had an eye for such things, but time will eventually erase the most obvious of signs. Even then, though, they had made their footprint on the land indistinguishable from what you would find from those already on the planet.

… There was so much space in the Grotto it was almost unnerving.

Allyria slowly ran her hand across the plating of the worst-off speeder she planned to hopefully start repairing soon. Pitted and scored even on the plating sections in better condition, it had seen better days. Once upon a time, it clearly had been painted brightly before some combination of hands and the elements had stripped it long before Allyria had first looked it over.

This speeder was getting up there in years. Travel across the surfaces of habitable planets was one thing but soon it would need to be retired from spaceflight for safety reasons. (Technically, by the old standards, it should have been already, but its potential was far too valuable to scrap it without attempting to repair it.)

Decrepit just like most of the ships in Allyria's old fleet…

With a sigh, Allyria traveled farther down the speeder's length towards the boosters, the fingers of one hand still lightly tracing across it.

Allyria wasn't regretting throwing her lot in with Morriphina but she still worried for those she left behind even if she had no strong connections anymore to tie her there. Those ships were already on their last legs. Even those not in the Engineering Department were voicing how they needed to settle somewhere to refurbish the older ships, even rebuild them if possible but Captain Cren was adamant that their kind could only survive traveling between the stars. He would entertain the notion of settling, he would say, once they had traveled so very far away from Nightmare's influence to the very tips of the arms of the galaxy (much farther than Allyria was even now) and demanded they be ready to push uptime in and uptime out to get to this new home. Many had come to cling to this as their hope and thus were stubborn to veer astray, and it just made her worry more, pushing those ships and people like that.

Allyria would always be grateful for her time under Captain Cren. When she was still a fledgling, her days had been spent learning, training, and caring for the younger nestlings of the Sisters of the rookery. In the nights, however, she had laid awake in her mother's nest, watching the soft hues of the nightlight slowly shift across the darkened room, and waking dreamt of all the things expounded upon in texts and holovids. This urge had weakened as she became distracted as she came of age and built her own nest but joining the fleet had awakened it with such fervor. Whether barren or lush, every new planet, planetoid, and asteroid were so new and exciting. It sounded like a story for nestlings but each had been an adventure—but she couldn't stay.

It made her feel like an asshole. It made her feel helpless (and she _hated _such things) but she just knew down in her well she _couldn't_ stay. The little ones couldn't stay. Many on those ships knew that they all couldn't stay and keep pushing,_ pushing_. The ships needed repair, and if they weren't, the trouble brewing would hit red and it wasn't the ships that were going to blow first, and fledglings with no known lineage would be too easily forgotten. The fledglings didn't need that.

None on those ships needed that (but if not wanting to push harder and harder made her dead weight then so be it).

If the captain didn't ease his hand, the fleet would splinter further and more ships were going to break off and people leave than that already had.

She wondered about trying to find some of those she had a better working relationship with when the Gathering of the Pillars was called and asking them to add their strength to the rookery. The rookery at least needed to find a proper medic. There was more advance medical equipment in storage but triage and advanced first aid could only get you so far with them. They needed professionally trained hands. She knew from Sir Lancelot that Sir Galahad was attempting to find someone for them but from what Allyria could gleam, it was very unlikely he could post someone permanently here. Medics were just too valuable, and if Sir Galahad couldn't loan someone, she doubted they could recruit one at the Gathering.

(Allyria walked to the kitchen and downed her rations quickly before going into the cabin to roll out her bedding in a quiet space. Mind still wandering, she laid down to try to get some rest before Morriphina returned with the newest member of their rookery.)

Attending the Gathering could be both awarding and risky. They potentially had some good items to barter with between the minerals they have obtained during excavation to some of the savior fern cuttings they were propagating, and they had plenty they needed to get. However, while peace was demanded between the fleets, rookeries, and battalions that gather, that didn't mean attempts against enemies weren't made or that those looking to bolster their strength and numbers—like them, to a degree—didn't hound capable individuals, and with the reputation of some of their members…

It would be best if they all kept their presence quiet.

It was for a similar reason that Queen Genevieve stayed hidden more than not nowadays and only let her general whereabouts be known while she oversaw the Gathering, and even then, she did more from the shadows instead of openly appearing to the People. She commanded just as King Arthur did but would-be kings vying to see if they had the power to wield the relic she so zealously guarded had come to all but harass her each Gathering with their petitions to attempt the Rite.

The relic that was rumored to be from the time only spoke of in old stories that had been secretly passed down and preserved in whisper. A time of peace and great, towering crystal palaces and vast shaded, fruitful forests…

A time before the Great Defiler had descended upon the land and scooped up their people and stole them by the great handfuls to be spirited away to an existence of brutality and all-consuming heartache…

It had been the King's weapon, and it is said it takes on the form of the wielder's well and would give one the power to hold off the aberrations that lurked in the Beyond—_if _one could wield it.

It had been unwielded since it had reappeared to the Queen after the King had taken the fight to the Defiler in an effort to break the siege on the City of ** * ** or at least give the People the precious time needed to escape on the many ships. It is said that despite the city burning around her, the city that was to be the King's grand achievement, she had fallen to her knees and cried out, swearing a curse upon the creatures of the void for what signaled what was likely King Arthur's last valiant deed for their people.

Allyria pushed the covers up further around her head as she wondered what the Queen was doing right now in that vast, cold expanse.

Pressing her face into her thin pillow, she shuddered as her thoughts soured as old fears came back to worry her, fears she hoped she wouldn't ever have to face again since she had left her rookery. Originally, she had tried to think again of any members from the fleet that she could suggest they try to recruit at the Gathering but her thoughts had drifted to the idea that still plagued her: that her new "matron" would try to find her a sire at the Gathering but she squished it down like all the other times that notion resurfaced, reminding herself that Morriphina had sworn to her that she would hold no such power over her. [Note 1]

Her brain, though, still flagged how useful she had proven herself and how she had shown how powerful her ability was. _It made no sense for others not to try to use that power and to not try to have more subjects with that power_, it whispered despite Allyria slapping back that she already knew that Morriphina's goal was the freedom that they both equally wanted.

Freedom that is _supposed to be_ granted and protected by the Decrees. Freedom from a chain (one of many) that both the King and Queen and so many of those loyal to them heavily criticized for merely being passed from the grip of the Eldritch King and his overseers to the matrons and generals instead of being severed… but it is hard to break what had been so deeply scored in.

Morriphina had tried to jokingly sneered around the time when she had first propositioned Allyria that if someone ever caught Allyria's eye and she thought them an idiot, she would goad said idiot into proving themselves but that had quickly devolved into an awkward mess that Morriphina, to her credit, quickly tried to recover from.

They had enough little mouths to feed as it is, Allyria furthered reasoned with herself. The ratio between little wings and adults were already pushing the limit of their ability to get anything done as well as care for them. The rookery was plenty big in this sense for the stage they were at and they already had one new member coming.

"…"

One that Sir Galahad refused to send almost any basic details about over the comms, which boded well.

* * *

Long A/N: So certain things are clear, I'm going to summarize and expand briefly on things that are known or hinted to by now. Info-dump~ ;D

Nightmare harmed (to put it lightly) their people because he found them useful, exploitable, and they have lost their planet in the sense they don't know what it is/where it was and parts of their society. They rebelled but damage was already done. Intense efforts have been and are still being done to free their people from the scars Nightmare inflicted.

Some of those scars created the battalions and rookeries. Both are semi-autonomous groups that you can think of as tribes or clans, each having their own industry and warriors and ships. They are not exclusively split by gender, especially now in "modern" times, but who rules, how lines of heritance are determined, and how other similar things are worked out are through that enforced lens. Both are controlled by a central authority, the Courts, which are led by the king and queen.

Fleets are the merging of battalions and rookeries that were started formally later in the rebellion as one of the efforts to heal said scars. The fleets tended to be where you would find most of those that join from other peoples throughout the galaxy who were also fighting against Nightmare and monsters like him.

The situation with Kirby happened long after the Fall of ** * **.

All adult "kirbies" known in the fic so far including Meta Knight were born long after Nightmare's conquest of their people.

Cappies don't really settle at the latitude the Keep is located due to crazy monsters/animals and a general feeling that not having to deal with monsters = good place to settle, a sentiment I believe a good number of people have. The Keep hasn't had much trouble so far, though (and is maybe eating said monsters （￣ω￣）Ψ).

[Note 1]: What Allyria is referring to is effectively an arranged marriage with additional complications/restrictions stemming from Nightmare's machinations fostering certain mentalities as well as causing their society to split into a blend of two (three now) structures/schemata.


End file.
